


Are you afraid of God?

by lightswoodmagic (sarah_writes)



Category: BioShock Infinite, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Blood and Gore, Fluff and Angst, Gun Violence, Homophobia, M/M, No Smut, Racism, Strangers to Lovers, Supernatural Elements, VideoGame, bioshock infinite au, with some...very obvious difference
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:06:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 53,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23478202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarah_writes/pseuds/lightswoodmagic
Summary: It was supposed to be simple; bring us the boy, wipe away the debt. Watching Harry now, beautiful and almost untouchable where he stood against the railing, it seemed clear to Louis what he should’ve known from the moment he saw him. It was never going to be simple.“Do you think it’s possible to redeem everything that we’ve done?”Louis moved, desperate to be closer, the siren in the background obvious that everything was about to fall apart again. “I don’t know if there’s any point.”Harry kept his gaze on the burning city, eyes weary but bright. “Are you afraid of God, Louis?”“No, but I’m afraid of you.”A Bioshock Infinite AU where nothing is ever as it seems, and time is always irrelevant.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Zayn Malik/Liam Payne
Comments: 12
Kudos: 47
Collections: The Larry Gaming Fest





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Well.  
> Here we are!  
> This fic is such a labour of love, and took a lot of blood, sweat, and tears (mainly mine, some Mia's).  
> For anyone that hasn't played Bioshock Infinite, I'm excited! It's a fascinating universe, and I really hope you enjoy it!  
> For anyone that has, there are some things that are completely different, and some things that are exactly the same. I hope you enjoy reading about them all!  
> There's some direct quotes in here for lines I loved, or lines that wouldn't make sense if they were different.  
> The game, and fic, are set in 1912, so please keep that in mind when reading in regards to the racism and homophobia tags. 
> 
> Okay, my thank yous! 
> 
> To the absolute best beta in the world, [Mia](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed). I've told you time and time again how much I love you and appreciate you, but there is absolutely no way this fic would've been written without you. You are such an incredibly quick beta, pick up on everything, and make me laugh and cry with the comments you leave. You make my life infinitely better, and I love you 3000. Thank you so much for everything you did. 
> 
> To all my group chats. you make me a better person, and a better writer, and I'm incredibly grateful for all the love and support you show me. I love you all so much!
> 
> To [Grace](https://ltwalls2020.tumblr.com/) and [Mar](https://larryscurves.tumblr.com/). The art that you've created for this fic has all been incredible, and I can't believe how lucky I am for one of my fics to be on the receiving end of so much talent. I'm in awe of both of you, always, and I love you!
> 
> And of course, to Holly & Kate. Thank you so much for running the fest and letting me write this. 
> 
> Xx

Time.

It’s an odd construct, really, the way it flirts with space, teases the edge of the universe, every universe, melting into everything it meets along the way.

It’s a constant, a relentless march that’s impossible to ignore, to shift. It’s frightening; the lack of control, the way in which it seems to move, a straight line with no divergence that drags you along for the ride.

Until.

All it takes is one person, guided by curiosity and love, one idea, one new set of rules to completely shatter every expectation you’ve ever had.

_Are you afraid of God?_

_No, but I’m afraid of you._


	2. I

The wind was biting, almost aggressive, sending fat water droplets like icy shards directly into his skin. It was howling, loud and overwhelming, waves rushing up over the side of the small rowboat to slosh around his feet. He could hear someone talking over the sounds of the ocean, realising it was two different voices just as the salt water hit his lip, his tongue coming out to taste it.

It all seemed to hit him at once, how he didn’t know where he was, or how he’d gotten here, or who the voices belonged to.

On his next exhale, Louis’ eyes fluttered open.

Nothing became clearer.

His clothes seemed simple enough, as soaked as they were. Pinstripe pants, white shirt, a black vest and a blue jacket. It all seemed intricate though, with small gold details and a red and gold loosely tied neckerchief. The jacket wasn’t doing enough to keep him warm as he wrapped his arms around himself tightly, shivering where he sat. An odd feeling, not entirely unwelcome, just _different_ , settled over him though when he glanced up and noticed the tall lighthouse just in front of them.

That was when it clicked again that it was a _them_ , that he remembered the voices and realised he wasn’t alone in this tiny boat. He focused his attention on the people in front of him, people donned in yellow raincoats that he somehow hadn’t been given, rowing quickly towards a pier. They were British, Louis could hear, one slightly Northern, the other just shy of there, and he quickly came to realise that their conversation didn’t make sense.

“ – doesn’t row.”

“He doesn’t _row_?”

A heavy sigh that was audible even through the howling wind. “No darling, he _doesn’t_ row.”

“Oh, yes, of course.”

Louis sat bewildered before he tapped one of the men on the shoulder. “Ah, excuse me, who are you?”

The figure turned around, but still not enough that Louis could see his face, and shoved a wooden box at him.

“Here, take this, we’re almost late you know.” He turned back around just as quickly.

“Almost late for what?” Louis ran his fingers over the complex and delicate markings carved into the box, engravings he’d never seen before, but somehow seemed familiar to his touch.

He carefully unhooked the lid, flipping it up as he hunched in to try and protect the contents from the rain. He startled, almost dropping it when the first thing he saw was a gun, a simple enough handgun settled atop pictures and odd symbols scrawled across paper. It wasn’t that he’d never handled a gun; far from it. It was certainly the first time that someone had seemingly _gifted_ him one in the middle of the ocean, though. He picked through the contents of the box until he came across a photo, a blurry silhouette of a person that didn’t seem to really have any distinguishing characteristics aside from a bun on the back of their head. He flipped it over, hoping for some kind of information, but there was only one thing written on the back:

_Bring safely to London._

Curiosity won out over confusion, and when he shut the box to glance up again, he realised the boat had come to a gentle stop, and the men were back to pretending that Louis didn’t exist. They were deep in conversation, quick sentences back and forth that Louis couldn’t keep up with, so in sync that it was slightly terrifying in a situation he knew nothing about.

He fidgeted slightly in the wet and glanced to his left, the pier that had seemed so far away now just inches away from his face. There was a ladder right there, weathered wood that Louis knew he needed to be careful on unless he wanted to slip, and with annoyance creeping up on him, he figured it was the only right thing to do. He aimed carefully and threw the box up onto the pier, listening as it landed with a muted _thud_ , and hauled himself up onto the ladder. The wood was splintering away underneath his hands, and he tried to focus on each rung as the men below kept up their chatter.

“Shall we tell him when we’re returning?”

“Would it change anything?”

“Oh well, I suppose not.”

Louis huffed as he reached the top, grabbing the box and standing to spin on his heel.

“Why am I here? Does somebody need my help?” He clutched the box tighter to his chest as it threatened to slip out of his hands. He gestured to the lighthouse. “Is there somebody in there?”

He could almost see them now, their faces turned up towards the rain. He could just make out the stubble and chocolate brown hair of the man on the left, and the ink black hair and sharp jawline of the man on the right, the one who’d handed him the box. He was the one who spoke next.

“I hope so!”

And just like that, they were back to their quickfire conversations, the kind that only came with years of intimacy.

The brown-haired man hummed. “It does seem an awful place to be stranded, doesn’t it?”

“Mm, quite.”

If Louis never saw these men again, all the better. He threw his hands up, exasperated, trying his hardest not to throw the box back at their heads. Just as he was about to swear at them and demand to know what was happening, he noticed a light on in the lighthouse, halfway up the grey bricks, a flickering that could only mean someone had lit a candle. His arms fell to his sides, curiosity winning over again, and made a tentative step towards the building.

“Is there someone in there?” he asked again, firmer now and directed at the men in the water, but his eyes never strayed from the light. “Do they – am I supposed to go in there?”

He turned back, rain hitting the side of his face as the wind picked up, and his frustration grew when all he could see was the rowboat getting smaller as it moved from where it came. Louis could hear them talking, arguing about some kind of timeline, but their voices were fading, pushed away by the roar of the wind as Louis realised that he was alone, with no idea where he was, and no idea what to do next.

The only thing to do, he supposed, was seek shelter from the storm.

Louis made his way along the pier, trying his best to keep his balance as his feet slid slightly with every step, the wood underneath slick with water and salt. He’d never particularly loved the rain, or at least being out in it. Maybe it was ideal weather for whatever was about to happen though, brought with it a sense of foreboding that Louis couldn’t quite put his finger on. The pier ended in a cascade of rocks, shiny with rain and just wet enough that Louis almost had to tiptoe across. By the time he got to the stairs leading to the door, he’d almost dropped the wooden box dozens of times.

It’d taken effort to fight his way to the entrance, and by the time he got to the doors, he was panting, trying desperately to catch his breath. He ducked under the awning sheltering the entryway, pleased when it meant he wasn’t getting wet anymore. His head down, he reached up and grabbed onto the door handle, a gold ornate thing, but when he looked up and pushed, he faltered at a piece of paper pinned to the wood.

_Tomlinson,_

_Bring us the boy and wipe away the debt._

_This is your LAST CHANCE._

It was scrawled, messy, like someone had written it in their last moments. The ink was splattered across the paper, large spots and smaller dots, as if whoever it was had written it in haste. Louis had no idea who had written it, or which boy they were talking about. Even the mention of a debt only itched at the back of his brain, and while he figured he should probably be concerned, there was an underlying feeling of calm that settled everything in his mind.

This was something he did; investigating, sneaking, lying to get what he needed. It was what he was paid for, why people sent him into situations they didn’t want to be a part of, and even though he knew on a surface level that he had no idea what he was getting himself into, there was a thrumming, a pull, something that told him he knew exactly where to go, and what was expected.

So, he knocked, three times, and waited.

“Hello?” When there was no answer, he knocked again, a harsh action that stung his knuckles. “It’s ah, it’s Louis Tomlinson? I think you’re expecting me?”

When there was still no answer, no sign of life from inside, Louis shrugged and pushed open the door. It wasn’t warm in the lighthouse, not exactly, but the thick stone walls took away from the wind and icy rain and Louis felt like he could breathe again.

He shook himself off slightly in the doorway, trying to get rid of any excess water, and when he looked up towards the round stone centre of the building, he stopped short, and his eyebrows furrowed.

There was a small table right in front of the door, pushed up against the stone, a large pillar candle with the flame flickering gently. It wasn’t that, or the pile of books, or even the large metal bowl that caught his attention. It was the piece of framed embroidery hanging just above it, colourful blues and greens and yellows that almost seemed to offset the slightly ominous message stitched there.

“Of thy sins shall I wash thee,” Louis murmured to himself, stepping forward to peer cautiously into the bowl. It seemed to be filled with water, though Louis couldn’t be sure, yet he found himself washing his hands without a second thought. “Wash me of my sins, hey?” he snorted, drying his hands on a soft, white towel sitting innocently nearby. “Good fucking luck.”

The lighthouse smelt damp and slightly musty, with an underlying scent of something almost metallic that Louis was sure he recognised. He was getting nowhere dawdling downstairs, the bottom floor almost bare; the only way from here was up, he supposed. As he trudged upstairs, footsteps careful so he didn’t slip on the curved, metal staircase, it seemed odd that no one appeared to be here, and that there was even more embroidery on the walls leading up. Louis shook his head, reading it quickly enough to recognise the word ‘Sodom’ and wonder exactly what kind of religious shit he’d gotten himself into. The bowl of water near the door made slightly more sense now, but it made Louis smirk at the fact that he’d certainly be cast aside by anyone who lived here.

“Hello?” he tried once more as he reached the first landing, eyes trying to adjust to the flickering candlelight here. “Is anyone here?”

There were coins he didn’t recognise scattered all over the floor, and on a nearby table, that Louis picked up and pocketed, jars of food and a telephone that didn’t work. Louis wandered over to a desk, fingers running lightly over a map of the UK tacked to the wall above it, with underlined coordinates and strange markings, but it was another scrawled note next to it that gave him pause.

_Be prepared_

_He’s on his way_

_You MUST stop him_

_\- C_

It was easier to assume the note wasn’t about him, purely because he didn’t _want_ it to be, or that maybe it was written _for_ him, but the uneasy feeling sitting in his stomach only seemed to strengthen, much like the metallic scent that Louis had come to know for sure. It was obvious now what it was. There were signs of a struggle here, pots and pans strewn on the floor next to food scraps, the tap running in the kitchen sink. He moved across the small space, past the kitchen and the bed, and kept moving up the stairs.

There were ropes and pulleys, nets and fishing gear hanging from the ceiling and wrapping around the centre column, but it was the first spray of blood that sat near his feet that commanded his attention. Louis took a deep breath, and stepped further into the room.

While he’d been expecting the blood from the moment he’d recognised the scent, he hadn’t quite been prepared for the scene that greeted him now.

Blood was pooled on the floor, sprayed across the walls and covering the furniture. The lifeless body slumped in a chair had a sack over its head, wearing dirty overalls and an undershirt soaked with red, and Louis was grateful for a moment that he couldn’t see the person’s face. He moved closer, letting his gaze move over the knives and other implements used for torture that sat on the table, his head snapping up when he realised the cigarette resting there was still lit.

Someone had been here very recently, then, or was possibly still here. There was no way anyone could be hiding anywhere that Louis had already been though, and the only other option was that the person had moved up to the top floor where the light had been. He needed to be careful now, and he swore under his breath when he realised that he’d called out several times, and there was absolutely no way that whoever it was didn’t know he was here.

He opened the box and pulled out the gun, heart rabbiting in his chest as he checked to make sure it was loaded, and slowly moved up the next staircase until wind suddenly slapped him in the face. He hadn’t expected to be _outside,_ but he was, on a small circular walkway, the sturdy metal wrapping around a small, glass room, a large bulb inside of it softly lit to guide the way. Louis just wasn’t sure if it was for the ships in the water, or for him.

“What the fuck?” Louis slipped his gun into his slacks.

He was standing in front of a pair of gold, ornate doors, swirling metal intricately weaving back through itself. The only problem was that there seemed to be no door handle, and only three gold bells with symbols; a scroll, a key, and a sword. Louis frowned, stepping closer to flick at each bell, each one letting out a soft note that Louis almost recognised from his years of musical study. One was definitely a C, and one of the others maybe an F? Or maybe an E?

Louis shook his head to try and clear it, and wandered around the outside of the room hoping for another way in. It took him a moment to realise there was definitely no one else up here, which made the lit cigarette downstairs all the more confusing, and he could see twinkling lights far away from the closest island of land. It didn’t help him figure out where he was, not by a long shot, and now he seemed to be stuck here for God knew how long.

He sighed, leaning back against the railing and trying to determine how unsanitary it would be if he snuck back downstairs to finish the last of that cigarette, or whether there were any more hidden away. The rain had stopped now, but the wind was still brutal, whipping his fringe around his face. Without the threat of everything getting wet though, he popped open the lid of the box again to try and figure out what all of it meant.

As soon as it was open, his eyes fell to the picture he’d seen earlier. It was too difficult to see anything of note really, but Louis was sure it was a man. There was just _something_ that he couldn’t place about it, something that made his heart skip and his pulse race. He shook his head to clear it, and shifted the photo to the side. The second he did, he laughed, pulling out the piece of card that sat under it to examine it properly. He wondered how he could’ve missed it before, and why it didn’t jog his memory as soon as he’d seen the intricate bells back around at the door. 

He carefully pulled the gun from his slacks and put it back inside the box, trying to juggle everything and make sure nothing fell. When the box was shut again, everything safe, he ran his finger over the card. There were three crude drawings on it, each with a number next to it; a scroll, a key, and a sword, and one, two, three. He could only assume that it was a code, the way to open the door and get into the only room he hadn’t seen yet.

He slammed the box shut and jogged back to the door, not wasting any time before he rapped his knuckles on each bell. _The scroll once, the key twice, the sword thrice._

There was an odd sound, a foghorn almost that seemed to rattle the air around him, growing with each hit of his knuckles until the final bell rang, and Louis’ entire world shifted. Everything shook, the lighthouse dangerously so, and Louis watched in slight terror as the entire sky went blood red. He grabbed onto the railing nearby, desperate to stay upright as the foghorn went again, and then just as quickly as it came, it was all gone, and the doors were open.

What the _fuck._ Louis stared, watching intently as the giant bulb sank slowly into the floor until the glass room was empty save for a lone chair. It looked just like a chair someone might see at a dentist, a footrest and head support and everything, and Louis had already come so far that he figured he may as well just sit in it.

He should’ve been more cautious, he supposed, but by the time he realized that it was too late. The second he sat down, there were metal cuffs coming up to trap his wrists, and when he struggled to free himself, it was with a sinking horror that he realised his feet were trapped too.

Well. This might be a problem.

Louis was trying his hardest to remember how to breathe, to take note of all his surroundings in case he _wasn’t_ going to die strapped to this chair. Everything was moving too quickly though, and before Louis could really control himself enough to pay any attention, he was enclosed in a _very_ small space, being tilted forward in his chair, and the wooden box was falling from his lap into what looked like…flames? He could only watch helplessly as the box opened, and the gun went tumbling down into the abyss.

_There went the one thing he had to protect himself._

He had a brief, sudden realisation that he was strapped into some kind of vehicle, and then suddenly he was flying, up through the open roof of the lighthouse and straight up into the air.

Louis looked around, desperate, but all too aware that he had absolutely zero control over whatever was happening, wherever he was going. There was a small window directly in front of him and he could see the land getting smaller and smaller as clouds whipped past, and he squeezed his eyes shut to try and block out the robotic voice talking absolute shit through a tinny PA system. It was all safety instructions, letting him know that he was safe, and it wasn’t overly comforting when Louis had never agreed to be here in the first place. 

It was moments like this in which people would usually try to take stock of their life, to think back to everything that made them happy or feel loved, just in case this was the last moment they had. Try as he might though, Louis couldn’t really seem to grasp onto a solid memory. Everything was blurred, hazy, fuzzy around the edges, and nothing made sense. He put it down to the sheer panic and adrenaline coursing through his system, and just as he opened his eyes, the contraption he was in seemed to slow, and unlike the storm he’d encountered below, the first thing that greeted him was clear blue sky.

Louis gasped, and his fingers tightened around the ends of the arm rests.

 _“Hallelujah,”_ the PA crackled at him, _“and welcome to Columbia.”_

He’d never seen anything like it in his life.

Sitting amongst the clouds, seemingly floating in the sky, was a _city_ , streets and parks and _buildings_. Louis tried to move forward to see, tried to even fathom how this was _possible_ , but the restraints held him back. Even from where he was sitting, he could see it was sprawling, tall buildings and _people_ as far as the eye could see. He had no idea how this was even happening, let alone where he’d even start to look for the boy in a city this big, but the more he thought about it, the stronger a slight pain seemed to grow behind his temple.

Louis watched, wide eyed, as they seemed to sail past what looked like…a blimp? He let his eyes follow it for a moment until a harsh beam of light sliced through the window, and Louis had to shield his eyes as his gaze shifted.

It was the sunlight reflecting off a gold statue of an angel that had briefly blinded him, dozens of stories tall and towering over almost everything else that he could see in the city. It was taller than the tallest building Louis had ever seen, a soft smile on its face, a wreath in its hair and wings jutting out of its back, a picture of innocence that contrasted sharply with the sword it was wielding.

There was a pulse that seemed to run through Louis, travel through his blood and settle in his bones, and suddenly the only thing he was sure of was that he needed to go there, as soon as possible, and get off this fucking thing.

Louis was too distracted to take in everything, too many things in his vision making his head spin, and it wasn’t until the ship started to sink in the air that he saw an American flag, of all things, flying on top of a billboard. It was almost still too bright, was the thing, but Louis could see just well enough to note a picture of a man, white hair and a large beard, as he looked off into the distance, and words that made his palms sweat.

_FATHER COMSTOCK_

_OUR PROPHET_

He couldn’t help but snort, brushing aside the feelings of unease and confusion. _Prophet_ ; like this man, whoever he was, seemed to think he was some kind of God amongst the people who lived here. Louis had never believed in God, never believed that there was a higher being that dictated the difference between right and wrong.

Maybe he was alone now in that belief, up here in this floating city that seemed to be hovering by…big fans? Louis craned his neck to get a better look as he dropped further, but then the ship was lowering down into some kind of building, and all he could see were words, large golden letters engraved into the walls of the building, mentions again of a prophet and salvation, but Louis’ heart had started thumping in his chest when it’d become obvious that this was the end of his trip. There was no way to know what was on the other side, whether he’d be faced with an army of people or some kind of trap, but when everything finally stopped and he was released from the metal cuffs and was able to stumble out, he realised that wherever he was, this city was going to keep surprising him.

Candles. Hundreds of lit candles sitting on the bottom of a large shallow pool of water, sitting on stone steps and covering the windowsill sitting underneath a tall, stained glass window; a Godlike figure in a robe, surrounded by disciples. Louis scoffed and stepped forward. There were pews in front of him, _church_ pews, and Louis realised he could hear choir music. He wandered carefully through the water, adding to his already soaked clothes, and as he moved from room to room, the music seemed to get louder. It was beautiful, soft and probably calming to anyone else, but it was just his luck that he’d ended up landing directly in a church, home to the people who would try to kill him if they knew his secrets.

It was odd being in a place like this, somewhere he knew he didn’t belong but _felt_ like he was exactly where he was supposed to be. It was an odd fluttering, something within him not feeling at peace, but he pushed on towards the only place he thought could be the exit.

He passed another large statue of the same man, and even without meeting him or knowing who he was, it was impossible to not understand that the man was narcissistic, full of himself in a way that very few were. There were more words carved in gold here, and Louis was starting to feel like maybe he’d stumbled upon a cult.

_THE SEED OF THE PROPHET_

_SHALL SIT THE THRONE_

_AND DOWN IN FLAME_

_THE MOUNTAINS OF MAN_

“Well,” Louis huffed out a breath, slowly splashing through the water, “definitely a cult.”

He was too busy staring at another stained-glass window, a woman this time with black hair and a blue dress, to notice the man that had suddenly appeared beside him. Louis startled, had to bite his tongue to keep from swearing, but the man only smiled widely and gave him a small wave.

Louis turned away from the words he’d been reading, _‘AND IN MY WOMB SHALL GROW THE SEED OF THE PROPHET_ ’, and decided to just address him directly.

“Uh, hello,” Louis waved awkwardly, letting his eyes run down the young man’s figure to see he was wearing an all-white robe, “pardon my ignorance, but where am I?”

Louis braced himself for an angry response, because realistically who ended up here _accidentally_? What he got instead was a wider, albeit creepy, smile, and a soft head tilt.

“Heaven. Salvation is down those stairs.”

Despite the hand pointing to a set of stone stairs, that was decidedly not a helpful response, but it was the only lead he had to go on. With a heavy sigh and a smile that was probably more similar to a grimace, he took the stairs at a slight jog, moving swiftly past more stained-glass; another scroll, another key, another sword. Louis was starting to sense a pattern that didn’t make any sense, like he was on the outside of an inside joke between friends.

He moved through another room, at the bottom of the stairs, containing an altar and more stained-glass, a family this time, flowers laid on every stone surface; letters and poems that Louis felt would be too intrusive to read. He was just about to move, walk past the carved _‘THE LAMB: THE FUTURE OF OUR CITY’_ and collection of what looked like baby clothes and toys, when something he’d never seen before caught his eye. He slowed, squinting at the device where it sat almost hidden in a corner, and bent down to pick it up. It was heavy, heavier than it looked, and as big as a loaf of bread, and Louis rotated it carefully to see it from all sides.

The base of it was rounded, almost shaped like a bean, and made of some type of wood. There was a metal handle on the end, and a metal plate that connected to what looked like a _record_ , black with grooves. Small dials sat on the base, and a small meter reader sat close to a needle that Louis knew would play the record that was half inserted into the base. There didn’t seem to be an ‘on’ button, no particular switch, so Louis fiddled with the dials until he heard a _click,_ and while he’d been expecting some type of music, he should’ve already known that nothing here was as it seemed.

It was a woman’s voice, playing softly through the echoing chamber, and Louis realised with a start that it was a _diary_ of some kind. He was too amazed by the contraption to really listen properly, but he managed to pick up on more mentions of prophets and forgiveness, how it wasn’t possible to be forgiven without first committing a sin, but by the time it was over, with another _click_ , he realised he had no idea what’d actually been said.

Louis put the device gently back down and kept going, moving back opulent hangings of rich fabrics, to go down another stone staircase with more angel statues than any place had a right to have, until he reached a long room with multiple walkways, like aisles all next to each other, and came across more people dressed in white robes. He watched in curious fear, an almost overwhelming combination, as a line of people walked down each aisle, wading carefully through the shallow water with heads bowed and hands folded in prayer.

Although he should’ve realised it sooner, it was starting to be clear that this was a baptism, some kind of ritual to wash away your ‘sins’ before you could enter the city. Louis looked around, on edge and wary as he made his way towards the crowd of people at the end. The closer he got to the crowd, the louder a single voice became; some type of preacher, Louis guessed by the subject of his speech. The sound of running water was drowning out a lot of his speech, and all Louis could really grab was mentions of three golden gifts, of Eden and a sacrifice, the Vox Populi and the phrase _‘it would’ve been enough’._

If he was going to survive in a place he didn’t know, and couldn’t quite yet understand, he needed to pay better attention to everything happening around him.

The crowd was all dressed in white still, but the women were wearing headwear too, obscuring their faces further from where their heads were hanging low, hands still folded in front of them. Louis gently pushed his way through the crowd to reach the inner circle, placing his hand on a man’s shoulder to shift him out of the way. He startled at the sight of his own hand though when, sitting there, clear as day on the back, was a scar; a perfect _HS_ seared into his skin.

Louis had no recollection of how he’d come to acquire it, and the fact that he couldn’t remember it was something that made him pause. Surely it would be a painful memory, so maybe he’d kept it hidden, but it was that he couldn’t remember _anything_ about his life in that moment that really made his breath catch.

“Sinner! Have you come to cleanse yourself?”

Louis’ head snapped up, and he locked eyes with a man in all black, the voice recognisable as the one he’d heard as he’d walked down. He was standing down a few steps, knee deep in water, underneath a stone scroll that read _‘THE PATH OF FORGIVENESS IS THE ONLY WAY TO THE CITY’._ It should’ve been a comforting feeling for Louis to know that he’d been right about some kind of baptism, but his heart seemed to have fallen to his feet. The man just kept staring, and when he reached out his hand, Louis felt like he had no choice but to step forward and take it.

He was suddenly yanked forward with a firm grip, one hand moving to the back of his head. Louis struggled instinctively, suddenly realising that he’d agreed to be _baptised_ , but before he could fight back, before he could do anything, his head was shoved down, and everything was cold. Water flew up his nose, and by the time he’d gained his bearings, his body was tensing, shock kicking in as his head swam and his eyes went cloudy. He tried to kick out but he was too disoriented, and just as he thought he might pass out, he was pulled up by a sharp grip on his hair, the pain cutting through the haze, and pulled up out of the water, coughing.

“ – to be reborn and – .”

Louis was prepared now though, and managed to take a deep breath and close his eyes as he was shoved back under. He tried desperately to think of something else, to take his mind off the inevitable amount of time he’d be down here, but he was quickly running out of oxygen. He couldn’t _breathe_ , and he didn’t have time to flail his limbs before everything was fading away and went completely black.

_He’d woken from his nap due to a pounding at the door, his head jolting up before he groaned in pain, a dull headache making itself known. He’d fallen asleep, or passed out, at his office again, hunched over his desk surrounded by cigarettes and whiskey bottles. Louis managed to push himself up to sit properly, rubbing at his temples as the pounding at the door increased._

_“What? What do you want?” He knew he was yelling, but frankly, anyone being that rude this early in the morning deserved it. He sighed, pushing against his desk to stand, and accidentally knocking a pile of papers to the floor._

_“Bring us the boy and wipe away the debt!” The voice was distorted, too difficult to completely pick apart, and Louis was struggling enough as it was today. “We had a deal, Tomlinson! Open this door, right now!”_

_The door handle jimmied, someone clearly trying to get in, so Louis moved past the bed and sink, trying to get his thoughts together. There was no real way to know how long they’d stay out there, or what he’d need to do to protect himself if they busted in. He was close enough to the door now that he could read the backwards writing on the window of the door, ‘Private Investigator’ underneath his name, but when he’d decided that enough was enough and yanked the door open, ready to yell, he was shocked into silence._

_There’s no-one there, no-one banging on the door loud enough to wake the dead. There is, however, the city of London underneath him, stretching for miles. He was standing on what looked like a cliff, a perfect view of the city, and it was completely on fire._

_Every building was ablaze, and Louis gripped the handle he was still holding, looking around frantically just in time to see Big Ben topple over. There was blimps and odd ships with out of place guns, large and ominous, shooting everything in their path, dropping bombs onto office buildings and streets. Louis realised just a beat too late that they’d turned to fire at him though, and the missile was closing in fast with nowhere for him to go –_

Louis’ eyes shot open, breaths heavy and frantic, lungs on fire, and clear blue sky above him. He was distantly aware that he was lying in a pool of water, and that there were birds happily chirping nearby, sweet and calming. He let himself sink back into the cool sensation underneath him, let himself bask in the calm for a moment before he needed to figure out where the _fuck_ he was. 

He lolled his head to the left, the water making soft waves, and snorted quietly at the sight of three large, stone statues, their heads bent down as to almost purposefully be one of the first things you saw. They were holding, as should be expected by now Louis supposed, a scroll, a key, and a sword. The figures were familiar, but he wasn’t sure exactly why. It wasn’t until he saw the plaques at the bases of each that it clicked; Washington, Franklin, Jefferson. Founding Fathers of the United States.

There were too many questions swirling through Louis’ brain at the moment. He could remember the PA voice that’d told him he was in Columbia, but he couldn’t quite understand why an obviously American influenced city would be anywhere near London, particularly _hovering above it._

It hit him then that he didn’t even know if he’d been in London today, or if he’d come from somewhere else entirely before he’d been on the boat. 

Louis pushed himself up to sit, his hands thrown behind himself for support as he looked around. The first thing he noticed was that everything was _green_ , almost too green, trees and shrubs and flowers of all colours lining a staircase. He felt calm, serene, and while that was probably the entire point of what he’d just gone through, Louis felt a sudden rush of anger and frustration when he realised, he’d just been _baptised_.

He blanched, struggling slightly as he stood and made his ways to the white stone steps. He’d never _wanted_ to be baptised, had never entertained the thought before. It was a means to an end here though, something that’d been necessary for him to find his boy.

 _The_ boy. Not his boy. _The_ boy.

Everything was heavy, his clothes weighted by water as he sloshed up the steps leading to an open courtyard. There was white stone everywhere, paths laid into the ground surrounded by lush grass and well-kept greenery. Louis moved carefully through the people wandering slowly around, all still dressed in white, and tried to take note of everything he could see. It was a beautiful space, pure and clean and almost innocent in its design, allowing for the sun to shine through and brighten everything it touched. It was hot against Louis’ skin, but at the rate it was going, he’d be dry within minutes. The buildings were all white stone as well, immaculately designed and fresh, columns towering high above Louis everywhere he looked.

Louis had no idea where he was going, and everyone around him seemed to be too deep in some type of prayer to help, should he want to ask. There seemed to be only one solid path though, so with a quick shrug, he set out in the only direction that could possibly be the right one.

He couldn’t see any women outside, all the people in white just men muttering what sounded like some kind of scripture. It was difficult for Louis to keep his thoughts to himself about how crazy these people seemed, praying to what he heard as ‘Jefferson’. It was enough to give him a slight headache, the pain behind his temple slowly coming back.

There was a bench nearby, warm to the touch from the sun, and Louis sank down to give himself a moment to breathe. His breath was coming easier now, the shock of everything starting to dim around the edges, and he rested his elbows on his knees, holding up his head so he could study his surroundings. It was obvious he didn’t fit in here, no white robe to speak of, but it was too difficult at the moment to tell how many people arrived here every day.

The entire concept of the city was intriguing; how many people knew it was here? For it to be as big as it had looked, there must be thousands. Did they all come here in the same way? Were people recruited for whatever cause this was on Earth, only to move up here later? How many people even _knew_ about this city in the sky?

Louis glanced next to him and noticed a book, bound in rich brown leather. He picked it up, turning it over; _The Word of the Prophet._ There was no harm in trying to figure out something, anything, about where he was or who this man _thought_ he was.

He flicked to a random page and read, getting caught up in the ridiculous story of how the Angel Columbia had come to the prophet, Comstock, if the billboard he’d seen was anything to go by, and told him the vision for the city that sat above. He turned to a few random pages, taking in stories of gathering a ‘flock’ and salvation, before he snapped it shut and threw it back onto the bench.

Louis groaned, running a hand through his damp hair and returning the wide smile of a man that shuffled past, before standing, grimacing at the wet material still sticking to his skin. There was no point wasting time sitting around.

 _Alright_. Louis sighed, moving faster between buildings now, angel statues everywhere that seemed to follow him with their eyes. He shivered. _Still got a boy to find, apparently_.

He stepped through another heavy set of doors and had to control himself to stop his jaw from dropping.

A long street stretched in front of him, cobblestoned and dotted with people, a large square sitting at the end. Another towering statue was placed in the centre of it, but the entire section of city sat lower in the sky than the platform he was on. There were different sections, almost _islands,_ spread out amongst the sky, scattered at different heights and hovering in mid-air, different buildings and new sections of streets. Everything, regardless of how high or low it sat, seemed to be connected by a rail system of some kind, a trolley system that squeaked when a cart flew past nearby, tracks laid high in the air.

Louis was jolted though when the ground he was standing on started to lower automatically, as if it knew he was there and wanted to explore. He rushed to the edge and peered over cautiously. There were systems of cogs and pulleys working, a set of large metal sections coming down to interlock with an identical one below, connecting the platform to the street he’d been admiring.

“Incredible,” Louis whispered, and he walked forward to stand on the uneven street; the interlocked teeth behind him had been solid as he moved over them.

He spun around in a slow circle, awe and wonder taking over the urgent need to move on for a moment. It was easier to see how the buildings floated from where he was now, underneath a couple of them. They were all moving slightly, a soft up and down motion that would probably make anyone seasick if they focused on it for any point of time, and there were large propellers underneath that seemed to be doing most of the work. It was the complicated metal work and slick machinery that he couldn’t figure out, lit softly from the middle with a soft blue glow.

There was no point dwelling on it for now. He turned to look at the building he’d just come from; the carvings were religious, as he’d known they would be, underneath a large sign.

_WELCOME CENTRE_

_Why would he send his savior unto us,_

_If we will not raise a finger for our own salvation?_

_And though we deserve not his mercy,_

_He has led us to this new Eden,_

_A last chance for redemption._

Still a bit ominous, then. There was no other option than to just walk, wander the streets until he found what he was looking for, maybe follow the pulsing that still shot through his body every so often like something was calling to him.

Now that he was out of the Welcome Centre, the citizens standing in the street seemed to be more, well, _normal._ They were all chatting in small groups, wearing waistcoats and long dresses, bowler and boater hats, all in muted colours; faded greens and browns, neutrals that seemed to blend into the colours of the stone and brick buildings surrounding everything.

Regardless of why he was there, or how much he thought he stood out even here, it was a peaceful walk. Louis passed by hot dog stalls and popcorn vendors, people eating and chatting in the sunshine, leaning over the railing and pointing out whatever they could see. There were soft pops of noise coming from somewhere, but they were too distant to worry about just yet.

A glint on the ground next to a bench caught his eye; another coin, or four of them sitting in a little pile. Louis bent down to pick them up, they were ‘silver dollars’ apparently, and caught the conversation happening in the group next to him.

“ – and it’s such a perfect day for it!”

“The Prophet always looks after us, and he’s certainly made quite sure that the weather is beautiful for the celebration!”

Louis frowned, shoving the dollars into his pocket and moving on swiftly before he interrupted to ask what they were talking about. It clicked then that the sound he could hear was fireworks, and when he finally made it to the square, the statue of the prophet right in front of him, he could see them in the distance, explosions of red and blue. There was a muffled cheering too, a crowd maybe? But not one that Louis could see yet.

It was almost refreshing to walk through the streets of the city at first, or maybe it just seemed idyllic to the untrained eye; families having picnics and children laughing as they played, busy shops and happy music blasting through speakers on corners. It seemed like a community, the streets and courtyards filled with modern architecture and romantic streetlights. The constant signs, decorated with stars and stripes - because _somehow_ Louis had ended up in the middle of fucking 4th of July in the middle of the United States - that pointed towards and advertised ‘The 1912 Columbian raffle and fair!’.

Louis just knew better.

It was the overwhelming slap of red, white, and blue decorations with guns nearby, mentions of making sure you remained loyal and patriotic. It was the hissed conversation at a café – _“and I thought I detected a hint of a foreign ACCENT on our waiter” “we’ll have to be careful, they might be part of the Vox” –_ and the billboard he’d stared at with an image of a gold angel and a tiny sheep, the words _THE TOWER: PROTECTING THE LAMB FROM THE FALSE SHEPHERD._

Every new discovery filled Louis with a large sense of dread, a readiness to fight, because something here was dreadfully wrong.

Everything was getting louder as he turned street corners and followed the crowds, people laughing and cheering and the fireworks an odd constant. He’d wandered past a horse and cart, and then doubled back when he’d seen it wasn’t really a horse at all; it’d been _mechanical_ , purposefully made so that the inner workings could be seen, cogs and dials and lights. Where everyone gathered around it had been ecstatic, Louis had just felt something twist in his chest.

He kept moving, faster now, and suddenly wished he had some sort of weapon on him. He stopped at the end of a street, waiting with a small group of people as another section floated down and interlocked together to allow them all to cross. He tried to keep his head down and move with the crowd, but he was stopped by a hand on his elbow.

He let out a sigh of relief when he looked up and saw a young woman holding a small wicker basket filled with flowers.

“You look like you could use some cheering up,” she said softly, but the coy smile on her face almost made Louis wince. “How about a nice boutonniere?” She gestured at the flowers she was holding, a colourful collection attached to little pins, but Louis really wasn’t in the right headspace for a buttonhole.

He smiled as gently as possible at her and stepped back out of her grip. “No, thank you.” Louis tried not to grimace when she fluttered her eyelashes at him. _Barking up the wrong tree, love._

“Well,” she ran a hand up Louis’ chest to grip his jacket, not even noticing when he did flinch away this time, “you’d look good with one in your lapel. Come back if you change your mind.” With a wink, she was gone, blending seamlessly into the crowd as it kept flowing around him.

“Not bloody likely,” Louis muttered, and just as he was about to move on, he noticed a garden behind where the woman had been standing.

It was filled with the flowers she’d just had in her basket, as well as what looked like a vegetable patch and herb garden. He let himself take it in for a moment, this enormous space filled with lush plants, and it was odd, Louis thought, that there was so much life up here, up where nothing was even supposed to exist.

The city was coming more alive the further he walked, filled with more angel statues and overwhelming crowds. There were additional billboards too that spoke of a false shepherd, mentions of this false shepherd seeking to lead their lamb astray. It was unsettling still, maybe even more so now, and there was no denying that the city held a secret.

He’d just managed to walk under an archway and break away from the crowd when he saw the soaring gold angel status he’d seen when he’d arrived. It was even larger up close, and more magnificent, and he felt a foreign tug so strong in his chest that he almost keeled over.

It didn’t feel like anything he’d ever felt before, this overwhelming urge to be _closer_ or _more_ or _something_ that he couldn’t name. All he suddenly knew was that he was heading in the right direction, and he needed to keep going.

He was preparing himself for the journey, wherever it was going to take him, when a tugging at the side of his slacks drew all of his attention downwards. There was a young boy, no older than six, standing next to him with an earnest expression, wide eyes staring up at Louis, and a piece of card in his hand.

“Telegram for Mr Tomlinson!”

Louis furrowed his brows. He didn’t think that anyone here would’ve known who he was, let alone know him enough to send him a telegram. He reached out to take it, but before he could thank the young boy or ask him any questions, he was dashing off up a set of stairs and out of sight. Louis watched after him, still slightly in shock, and then looked at the card.

_Tomlinson STOP_

_Do not alert Comstock to your presence STOP_

_Whatever you do, do not pick number 77 STOP_

_Zayn STOP_

Louis had no idea who Zayn was, whether it was a first name or last name, or how they knew who he was. It was a warning, but not a threatening one; it was helpful advice, he assumed. It may have had malicious intent, been meant to throw him off track, but from what Louis had already learnt about the prophet, this Zayn was probably on the right side.

He flipped it over and saw a postcard image, the gold angel statue and the words ‘Monument Island’. That was where he needed to go, then. He realised, as he started walking again, that he was in some sort of shopping district, and there was advertising everywhere now, dotted amongst the red, white and blue decorations.

Louis took the time to stand back from the crowd and peruse the posters. They were colourful and intense, eye catching but confusing. There were mentions of something called a ‘vigor’ on one, and another advertising ‘Murder of Crows’ with a man holding what looked like a bottle. _‘A proven deterrent against hooligans!’_ it claimed. There was another, all red, for ‘Devil’s Kiss’, another in green for ‘Possession’, and another for something called ‘Bucking Bronco’. Even when he moved closer, Louis didn’t understand what they were _for._

There were bottles in each one, seemingly decorated by whatever was is in the name, in the form of the shape of the stopper; a horse, a crow, a devil, and something that looked like a heart? There was no way that he could ask without drawing attention to himself, so he just kept moving up the stairs, following the crowd until they all dispersed into a large courtyard.

Right in the middle, just in time for Louis’ questions, was a presentation of some kind, and Louis leaned back against a wall to watch. _VIGOR_ , was the sign above the stage, and Louis let himself be drawn into the spectacle in a growing mixture of horror, fascination, and confusion.

“Step up, come closer, don’t be afraid!” The man on stage was calling out, dressed in bright colours and wearing a top hat. “A life with vigor is a life that’s better!” He had a cane too, but that wasn’t what was drawing Louis’ attention. 

It was the people standing on the stone ground in front of the stage that Louis couldn’t look away from. They were wearing costumes of some kind, at least so you couldn’t see their faces, dressed as devils as they danced back and forth. Louis watched in shock as one of them drank something, threw his hand out, and a bolt of electricity shot to the other, knocking them flat on their arse.

“What the _fuck,”_ Louis breathed, scrambling to push himself off the wall.

He could only keep his eyes trained on them as they kept drinking, different bottles and colours as they threw fire, or floated off the ground, or as one of them got enveloped in a green glow and their entire demeanour changed, turning soft and pliant.

It was amazing, breath-taking, something that shouldn’t have been possible, but most of all it was _terrifying_. Louis couldn’t understand, didn’t even know where to begin, and as the crowd cheered, Louis slowly backed away, and jogged up the nearest staircase. His heart was beating rapidly in his chest, his palms were sweaty, and the only thing he could think of was _magic._ It didn’t fit with everything else that was happening here, though, and it seemed like you had to drink whatever it was to gain the ability. 

He struggled with his thoughts until he found himself in some kind of carnival, bells and whistles ringing in every corner of the space. He almost managed to completely avoid all of it, only stopping along the way to pick up coins from the ground and shove them into his pockets, but there was a shout of something he’d read about earlier nearby. _Bucking Bronco._ His curiosity got the better of him, so he wandered over and finally got a closer look at the bottle. It was standard size he supposed, or would’ve been if not for the rearing horse figure on top. He picked it up as people around him seemed to vanish, almost dropping it when he was startled.

“Well, do ya wanna give it a go?” It was the man behind the stall, with a wide grin and confident eyes. He waved his hand dismissively. “Just take a drink, you know how it goes.” And then he turned away, and Louis couldn’t help but be glad.

There was no harm, he assumed, if everyone around him had experienced this in some way or another. So, without letting himself hesitate or think about it too much, Louis popped the lid, and took a long swig from the bottle.

 _Heat_. Heat racing through his veins and down into his stomach, radiating out into every _cell_ of his body until he couldn’t contain his yell. His hands were burning, his vision blurry, and as he doubled over to try not to vomit, he let out a soft cry at the sight of his hands. They were pushing out air, and what looked like every vein was outlined in a bright yellow, like light was flowing through them to end in his fingertips. He flexed his fingers, hoping for relief, and then everything was gone as quickly as it’d come, and Louis stood up gasping, hand clutching the stall in front of him as his head spun.

When he’d finally managed to get himself back under control, the man behind the counter was staring at him in concern.

“First time? I didn’t know we had any new arrivals today, I should’ve warned ya!” He was laughing as he spoke, and Louis chuckled weakly.

The last thing he needed was for someone to realise he shouldn’t be here, at least not in the way they wanted.

“Yeah, no worries though mate,” Louis dismissed with a wave of his hand. “I’m not really sure what to do though, can you explain?” His heart was still pounding, but he seemed to have passed whatever unknown test he’d been taking.

The man grinned and gestured behind him. “Oh, another Brit! We’ve got a few of you around,” he laughed, and Louis realised he’d never even fucking _thought_ of that. “Makes it mean even more, when we get someone from another country up here.” He winked, but Louis’ grin dimmed when he kept talking. “Well, only _certain_ countries, if you know what I mean.”

Louis knew exactly what he meant, and suddenly the urge to get away from here was the strongest thing he knew. He forced the smile onto his face as he listened to the man explain _“just push the energy you can feel down into your hand and force it out. It’s easier than it sounds”,_ sick to his stomach at the added realisation of what this city in the sky was all about.

He could feel the energy coursing through him, just like the man had said, a low and constant thrum through his body that made him fidget. He concentrated on it, tried to let himself control it, and then just like that, something in his mind clicked, and before he could blink, a horse-shaped burst of air was coming out of his open palm and tipping over an empty rubbish bin.

“That was unexpected,” Louis laughed, flexing his fingers again as his body settled into the vigor. “Thanks.”

He threw the word back over his shoulder as he walked away, not wanting to spend another second in the man’s presence, and followed the carnival through the winding streets. Louis felt _powerful_ now, and even though he had no idea how any of it worked, and felt he’d probably never know, he couldn’t help but marvel at it.

By the time he got to the end of the street, he realised he couldn’t go any further. There was a gate controlled by a machine, a talking, mechanical man half in a colourful box with flashing lights around its edges. Louis blinked.

It didn’t seem to be letting anyone in without a ticket, and Louis couldn’t see anywhere that allowed one to be bought. He was just trying to figure out how to sneak past, or if maybe he could hightail over a fence, when he was startled by a woman holding what looked like another vigor on a tray. The flirty look on her face immediately set him on edge.

“Would you like to try a free sample of ‘Possession?” She popped her hip, smirking at him, and he really didn’t have time for this kind of thing right now. “It’s our new vigor. Lets you take control of man, or machines, for a brief time and tell them what to do.”

Louis bristled as he thought of the consequences, but picked it up to examine it. “That must be dangerous. Who would think that’s a good idea?” The liquid was a swirling green, soft and hazy, and his eyes flickered to the ticket machine.

“Oh, um – ,” she faltered, smile falling slightly.

It was easy enough to interrupt her and take a swig before she could come up with an excuse. He’d braced himself, knowing what to expect now, but it still almost knocked him over as a green mist swirled around his hand, his veins a deep green as the vigor pulsed. He gritted his teeth and thanked her, making sure she’d walked away before he tried to send a burst of whatever _this_ was at the machine. It felt more natural now, and he watched in slight amazement as a green cloud floated quickly through the air, collided with the robotic man, and sank slowly into the metal. It still had a slight green tinge to it, but not enough to see unless you were looking for it, and Louis slowly snuck forward and through the now open gate.

It shut with a solid thud behind him, but he darted away before anyone could pick up on what he’d done.

Well, he tried to, but he had to pull himself up when he almost crashed straight into two men standing in the middle of the path, blocking his way. They were perfectly still, one holding a silver tray and the other wearing a chalkboard over his chest, connected by metal to what looked like another chalkboard on his back. They looked vaguely familiar, and Louis couldn’t figure out where he knew them from.

It wasn’t until they spoke that the realisation crashed into him and he almost staggered from the force of it.

“Heads?”

“Or tails?”

The men from the boat. It was so _obvious_ now. The one on the right holding the platter, which upon closer inspection seemed to have a coin and piece of chalk on it, was the black-haired man with the cheekbones. The brown-haired man on the left with the chalkboard draped over him had the stubble resting on his jawline that Louis had seen from the pier. Louis had only just enough of his wits about him to grab the coin that Cheekbones flipped at him.

Louis sighed, letting his arms fall heavily to his side. Of _all_ the things that he didn’t have time for right now, this had to be number one on the list. “Come on, let me through. I have shit to do.” He paused. “Actually, how did you even get here in front of me? Couldn’t you have just brought me with you instead of whatever the fuck all of that was back there?”

Stubble cocked his head to the side. “Heads?”

“Or tails?”

“I really wish you’d stop that,” Louis muttered, frustrated, but flipped the coin into the air anyway, watching as it spun. “Tails.”

Cheekbones caught it easily, flipping it over on his hand. His eyebrows drew together, and he sighed. “Heads.”

“See, I told you.” Stubble managed not to sound smug, although how he did it, Louis had no idea, and just like that, their easy banter was back. Louis couldn’t say that he’d missed it.

Cheekbones just hummed, picking up the piece of chalk and stepping forward to make a mark on the chalkboard. It was divided into two columns, one titled ‘heads’, the other ‘tails’, and only the heads column had any marks under it. He added a single line to the column, adding to the 12 tally marks already there. “I suppose you’re right.”

“I’m never as satisfied as I think I’ll be.”

“Chin up, darling.” Cheekbones reached out a hand to gently tilt Stubble’s chin up so they could lock eyes, and _oh._ Louis hadn’t seen that coming. “There’s always next time.” His hand ran slowly down the other man’s chest, and then they were smiling softly at each other and turning to walk away.

The heads column on the back chalkboard was filled with tally marks.

They didn’t move very far though, so Louis hurried over to them. “Wait, can you at least tell me what your names are? I can’t call you Cheekbones and Stubble forever.”

Cheekbones’ face turned slightly, just enough for Louis to see his raised eyebrows.

“Well, those are new nicknames.”

“And I’m afraid not.”

“Can’t spoil the surprise now, can we?”

And then they went back to ignoring him, and Louis couldn’t be bothered to wait around. He _needed_ to stop being distracted by everything around him, and _focus. Bring us the boy, wipe away the debt._

It was harder to walk through the streets now as the crowd grew thicker. The music was getting louder, a bass drum making itself more known with every step, and the decorations were getting more extravagant, balloons and fabrics, buntings and posters. He ducked down a side street, the only people there two policemen that didn’t even glance at him as he walked past.

“ – and I confiscated this from that Vox scum we’ve got locked up! It’s one of those sky-hooks.”

Louis couldn’t help but look as he walked past. He had no idea what the policeman was holding, but it looked like a weapon of some kind with a grip that rivalled a gun’s, ringed slots for your fingers and a soft pad to rest it on your arm. It looked heavy, and _deadly,_ with three large, sharp, angled hooks on the end. As Louis watched, the policeman spun one of them with his finger, and it glinted in the sun.

He kept moving now, past more groups of people when he got back to the main street, and he was just about to walk under a building when the billboard above the entrance made him stop, and shove his hand in his pocket.

There was a black claw, almost human but pointed, and the words _‘YOU SHALL KNOW THE FALSE SHEPHERD BY HIS MARK!’_ underneath, but it was the bright red _HS_ initialled on the back of the hand that’d made him pause. It took him all of two seconds to realise that _he_ was this false shepherd, the person sent here to lead the city's precious lamb astray. _The boy_.

It all checked out, really, especially considering the telegram he’d gotten. Best no-one knew who he was, or that he was here at all.

So, Louis kept his hand in his pocket as he made his way to a large, open courtyard with a stage set up, a red velvet curtain at the back of it, and a man entertaining everyone on the ground below. He pushed through the throng of people, everyone cheering or singing happily, dozens of people gathered here, and was stopped abruptly by a woman wearing a red, white, and blue dress, holding a bucket of baseballs.

USA, indeed.

“You don’t have a ball yet!”

Louis stared at her for a moment and glanced quickly behind her. There was a small sign, edged with paintings of stars, letting him know that he’d managed to stumble upon some kind of raffle.

He shook his head, apologetic. “Sorry, I don’t really want one.” When she seemed to look shocked, he hurried on. “I mean, I don’t have any money.” It was a lie, the coins he’d picked up heavy in his pocket, but he wasn’t keen on parting with them just yet.

The crowd was as loud as ever and intense around them, but Louis still heard the soft giggle she let out. “There’s no charge, silly! Come on, pick one.”

With a quick shrug, Louis reached into the bucket, fingers wrapping around the leather of one of the balls and pulled it out. It wasn’t until he turned it slowly in his hand that he realised there were numbers written on them. The black ink stood out starkly on the one he’d chosen, and the telegram in his pocket seemed to burn when he gripped it.

**77**

There was nothing he could do about it now, couldn’t ask for a new number or ball, and technically he’d already _picked_ it, so whatever the problem was, he wouldn’t be able to reverse it now. He twisted the ball to show the girl the number.

She looked delighted. “Ooo, 77! That’s a lucky number.” She winked at him and turned to walk away, hips swaying before she called back over her shoulder. “I’ll be rooting for you.”

Louis bit his tongue to hold back the _‘no thanks’_ that sat there, but then the crowd was quieting down, and the announcer was getting ready to name a winner. Louis tried to shift backwards, but the crowd was pushing forward, keen to get close to the stage, and he had no choice but to stay where he was. There was a band playing somewhere nearby, though Louis couldn’t see them, a big fanfare that was slowly hyping up the crowd again, and when the announcer finally pulled out a number, Louis was more surprised than he should’ve been.

“Number 77! Where are you, number 77?” The man was looking around the crowd, a wide grin on his face that almost looked like a smirk.

It made something uneasy wash over Louis, and he suddenly didn’t _want_ to be the winner, regardless of what it entailed. It was too late though, because the girl carrying the basket had already spotted him, and there was no way she wouldn’t remember.

“He’s there! Just in the middle there!”

And then Louis was being dragged forward by his wrist, overwhelmed by the amount of people clapping him on the back and congratulating him until he was standing right at the front of the crowd, facing the stage.

The announcer was grinning down at him, but it was too much. “Well then, step up and claim your prize, young man! First throw!”

Louis tried his best not to recoil and shot the man a weak smile. He could see the red velvet curtain lifting, hear the sound of mechanics working over the roar of the crowd, and then a small platform was moving where he could see it.

His stomach twisted and he had to swallow heavily to hold back the urge to be sick.

The more he’d wandered the streets of Columbia, and the more people he’d spoken to or overheard, the more it’d sunk in that even though he didn’t _really_ know what this city was, it was filled with racist white people. It wasn’t that it was different to the Earth he’d seemed to have left below, but up here it seemed more obvious now.

Here and now though, it was staring him directly in the face.

On stage now were a white man and a black woman, struggling against ties that bound them to large wooden poles. Louis took it all in as horror settled in his bones, and his stomach churned. They were wearing rags, and the man was crying out to him. Louis had to swallow back the intense nausea he felt and took a deep breath.

“Please, please don’t do this.” The man’s eyes were desperate, and Louis was frozen, still in slight shock of how anyone could treat _anyone_ like this, let alone an entire city making a game of it. “It was all me, she didn’t do anything, _please._ Why is it a crime to _love_ each other? _”_

The crowd was louder than ever now, jeering and telling him to throw, and Louis tried to step back, stumbling over his own feet, desperate to be anywhere but here. He couldn’t just leave, though, and he wouldn’t, because the announcer had said _‘first throw’_ , which could only mean that every single person in this crowd was going to assault this couple when there was nothing they could do to stop it. Louis shook his head desperately, everyone looking at him expectantly, and he tried to reassure the couple with his eyes that he wouldn’t, he’d _never_.

It wasn’t until the announcer started a chant in the crowd that Louis saw red, anger making his heart race and his fingers tremble, so that he forgot all about laying low, forgot about the urgent need to keep his right hand in his pocket. He threw the ball up slightly with his left, caught it in his right, and threw it full pelt at the announcer in one smooth movement. It made a satisfying _thwack_ when it smashed him in the nose.

Now it was Louis’ turn to smirk. “Son of a bitch.”

Four things happened at once.

The couple on the stage gasped, and the woman looked even closer to tears now.

The announcer swore loudly, clutching his face and stumbling back.

The crowd went feral, screaming and swearing, pushing and shoving each other.

And a policeman standing nearby, guarding the stage in a place Louis hadn’t noticed before, grabbed his wrist and twisted it to look at the back of his hand.

The smirk slid off Louis’ face.

“Wait!” the policeman shouted, and the grip he had on Louis’ wrist tightened. “It’s him!”

Louis tried to jerk away, looking around desperately for any kind of escape, but the crowd was closing in fast, and there were another two policemen right next to him blocking any kind of possible exit. 

“No, you’ve got it wrong,” Louis tried, still struggling, but then an arm clamped around his shoulders, and he was stuck.

“No! That brand makes you the false shepherd, and there’s no way we’re letting you into our flock,” the policeman behind him sneered, and Louis shuddered, still squirming to try and get away when his breath was right in his ear. “Show him what we've got planned, boys!”

Ah fuck.

The odd device, the skyhook he thought the cops had mentioned before, was suddenly right in front of him. Suddenly, the hooks started spinning, cutting through the air and whirring faster as it moved closer, only inches from his face now, and Louis had no doubt they were about to shred his face open.

The crowd was still yelling, chanting, and Louis looked down when his hand seemed to pulse, a flare of yellow light briefly shimmering around it. Without even really thinking too hard about it, Louis pushed out a rush of air, the horse driving directly down into the ground and sending all three policemen flying through the air with a soft _whoosh_. Louis’ eyes snapped to the sky-hook that had dropped with the movement, and before he could second-guess it, before he could think about any ramifications, he’d grabbed it, pulled the trigger underneath the handle, and driven it straight into the closest cop’s face.

Blood shot out in an almost perfect arc, narrowly missing Louis and landing somewhere behind him. It was the least of his worries though; the hooks were still spinning viciously, shredding the man’s face in a way that should’ve made Louis sick, but he just watched with a morbid fascination as he lowered the now dead man to the ground. He pulled the skyhook out with a solid yank, grimacing as it got slightly stuck, and let go of the trigger. The hooks stopped spinning, and then everything faded back in.

Louis stood, firm and straight backed as the people around him screamed and ran, his hand gripping the skyhook tightly as he braced himself. He should’ve known he’d need to use violence, should’ve known deep down that this wasn’t going to be easy. He looked down, saw the hooks covered in blood, and adrenaline raced through his system. It was easy to snap into fight mode, easy to relax and let his body remember what it felt like to fight.

Realistically, it was all he’d ever known how to do.

Just in time too, if the group of cops closing in on him was anything to go by. They had bats in their hands, but where they got them from Louis couldn’t tell. There were at least a dozen of them now, so he pulled the trigger and leapt into the fray.

Another hit to someone’s face, a gurgled scream, and then a bat to his back. He crumpled for a moment, and then gathered his bearings and spun around, kicking out and sending one of the men flying. It was easy to lose himself in the fight and to let his instinct take over. He felt like he was on autopilot as he rammed the skyhook into one of their stomachs, lifting the man off the ground slightly to throw him a few feet away.

It was gruesome, Louis thought, as he fought his way through them, leaving body after body behind him, but necessary. He had to get to Monument Island, needed to get the boy, and if any of these people stood in his way, well.

That was their problem.

He could hear a siren blaring over the island’s PA system, a low boom that finally shook him enough to realise that he needed to leave. There were no more people here now, but there would be soon if he didn’t hurry, so he backed away from the carnage he’d created and ran up a set of stairs to the stage. The couple seemed to be frozen, terrified, and considering how many people he’d just killed, it was probably valid.

“I promise I won’t hurt you, I’m just trying to find a _fucking_ knife to cut you free,” he tried explaining to them, but when he came up empty handed, he had to untie the knots with his hands. 

They certainly weren’t as complicated as they looked, and as soon as the ropes fell and they were both free, the couple grabbed each other and ran. The only thing Louis would do was hope that they’d gone somewhere safe. He weaved his way through some boxes and slowed to a creep, checking around corners as he moved backstage.

Louis had just stepped out from behind a tall metal column when a bullet whizzed past his ear.

“Fuck!” He fell in his haste to shuffle backwards and ended up resting his back against the column, taking sharp breaths as he heard footsteps, heard a gun being reloaded.

With one more breath, he rolled into the walkway, skyhook extended over his head, and pulled the trigger. The man shouted in pain as he fell, his leg bleeding when Louis dared to look, but then Louis was straddling his hips, and plummeting the skyhook down into his chest.

He couldn’t escape the spray of the blood this time and spluttered when it flew onto his face. In an effort to get rid of it, he ran a hand down his face and wiped it on his jacket.

“Ew.” He wrinkled his nose and shifted to stand, but the revolver that’d almost killed him was laying innocently on the ground. He would be a fool not to take it with him.

Louis looped the handle of the skyhook through his belt and picked up the revolver, popping out the cylinder to make sure it was fully loaded. It was, nine bullets staring back at him, but it might not last him long depending on what was waiting for him on the other side. He locked the cylinder back in place and tucked the gun into his slacks for the moment, moving quickly to unbuckle the man’s shoulder holster, as awkward as the position was.

He quickly threw the brown leather over his own shoulders, searched the man’s pockets for any extra ammo, and shoved the extra bullets and coins he’d found into his own pockets.

There were cages, Louis realised when he stood to leave what he now recognised as backstage, and he blanched when it became clear that this was what had been holding the couple from earlier. It added to his fury though, added to the emotions that were letting him move quickly enough to destroy an entire city, if he had to.

He paused near the door next to what looked like a vending machine as he noticed it seemed to carry a variety of items he’d probably need if he kept going, things he knew he’d need to survive. Louis pulled a few of the coins out of his pockets and shoved them in the little slot, managing to get a couple of first aid kits and some food. He munched hurriedly on a banana as he grabbed a nearby bag from a table and swung it over his shoulder, throwing the kits in there as he left through the backdoor.

Louis stopped behind a nearby planter in the middle of a sidewalk, one high enough to block his head from view if he hunched, and tried to think of his options. He had no clear idea of where to go from here, the streets like a maze and no maps to help. The only thing Louis had to go on was the feeling in his stomach that seemed to be pulling him somewhere, and he’d always been one to trust his gut.

He darted across to the sidewalk, crouching as he moved and tried to stay in the shadows. He could hear people shouting nearby, so he ducked into an alley to cut across to another street, hastily picking up coins he’d found on the way. Now that he knew that there were vending machines, hopefully dotted through the city, he needed to be prepared for anything.

It seemed to have been the right call, moving through the alley, because he managed to make his way down four separate streets before he came across anything else that tried to kill him. It was just that it wasn’t even a real _person_.

It was a stationary machine, the top half a mechanical man and the bottom a gun that shot at him with rapid fire as soon as he stepped out. He flung himself backwards, but the damage had been done; there were men converging on his location now, too many for him to take on with a revolver from a distance.

“Fuck,” he whispered, but then his hand flared again as the men got closer, green this time, and he realised that maybe he _did_ have a shot at getting past this. “Only one way to find out, I suppose.”

He darted back out, but he was ready this time with his hand out, and he watched with bated breath as the soft green cloud floated quickly to settle over the machine. There was every possibility that the city had made their own machines immune to the vigor; it would’ve been the smart thing to do, especially as it was grounded on what looked like a small floating boat used by the police force.

Louis was happy to be proven wrong though when the red eyes of the mechanical man flashed green, and suddenly all the men in the surrounding courtyard were being gunned down in rapid succession. It was with slight fear that he watched, but there was an undercurrent of relief there that had him breathing easier. He waited to see if the machine would turn back against him, but when all it did was settle motionlessly once everyone was dead, he cautiously moved over to the bodies and looked through their pockets, hoping for something, anything really.

He came across more coins, some food, and a few small blue bottles filled with liquid that he had no idea about. It was too much of a risk at this point to just down them, no label or warning or description to go off, so he threw them in his bag and moved on, ducking between walls and taking cover until he walked under an archway and found himself sweating. It wasn’t from the exercise though, or the exertion. The air suddenly seemed too hot and stifling, and it wasn’t until he looked down the cobbled street that he realised why.

“Oh, that’s just fucking brilliant.”

There was a man, at least he _thought_ it was a man, covered in heavy armour and covered head to toe in bright flames. Louis groaned; honestly, what even was this place? He tried to find some kind of cover, but there was nothing anywhere nearby, and he only had just enough time to duck and roll as a fireball was shot at him. 

He managed to recover quickly enough to fire three shots at a cylinder sitting on the man’s back, hoping that it was the fuel source for whatever was covering him. It did the trick, but the man seemed to know what was happening to him as the gas canister hissed out steam. He started running towards Louis, and Louis had nowhere to go, nowhere to hide as he scrambled backwards on the cobbled stones. He’d just managed to shield his eyes when the gas canister exploded, an intense wave of heat washing over him, and then Louis was peeking through his fingers to stare at a charred body sitting in the middle of the road.

Pulling himself up, Louis cautiously approached the body when he noticed another vigor bottle sitting innocently a few feet away, surrounded by bits of the armour the man had been wearing, as if he’d had it tucked away amongst the metal. It was somehow still cool to the touch when he managed to grab it, a red devil’s head as the stopper and the words ‘Devil’s Kiss’ written on the still intact label.

None of the vigors he’d had so far had seemed to harm him in any way, at least that he could see, so he pulled off the stopper and knocked the liquid back before he could second-guess himself.

It was still painful and overwhelming to look down and see that his hands were on _fire_ and his skin was melting away, but he squeezed his eyes shut through the rest of the process and didn’t open them again until he wanted to test it out.

The energy felt slightly different when he allowed himself to focus on it, seemed to allow him to switch the vigors in his mind if he thought hard enough. It was almost warm as it travelled down his arm, and then there was a brief moment of _heat_ in his palm when a fireball shot out in a perfect arc.

The whole process and experience of it all continued to be intense and confusing, but there was no point in dwelling on how odd the situation was, or what kind of science had created whatever was happening around him. He ducked into a bar just off the street, hoping to move through it to get to the other side, but he came up short with a groan when he saw who was inside.

Stubble was standing behind the bar, happily wiping it with a dirty cloth, and Cheekbones was clearing glasses from tables. He looked up when Louis came in.

“Oh, we have company.”

Louis sighed, but he felt himself relaxing slightly as he moved through the room, weaving around tables. “Why are you following me?”

“We were here first, why are you following us?” Stubble countered, but he didn’t even look up from the bar top.

“I – ugh.” Louis gave up and started wandering around, picking up ammo and gulping down a glass of water that was on the bar. His gaze landed on one of the blue bottles in his bag when he slammed the glass back down, and he figured it wouldn’t hurt to ask. “Hey, what’s this? I found a few earlier, and knowing where I am, it’s probably important. For some reason, you all love your weird little bottles of coloured liquid.”

“Salts.”

Louis blinked at Cheekbones, but he didn’t elaborate. Louis sighed. “And what are salts?”

“You have to have enough salts in your system to be able to use vigors,” Stubble explained, and then there was another bigger bottle of the stuff flying through the air towards him.

Louis caught it easily, shrugged, and knocked it back. True to its name, it was salty enough to make him cough, but he felt the difference immediately. It seemed to spread through his body, linking up with the bits of vigor it found along the way, and Louis couldn’t comprehend exactly how he could feel them all connecting, but suddenly he felt more vibrant and _ready_.

He smacked his lips, sent a quick thank you wave to the man behind the bar, and went to leave. He should’ve known it wouldn’t be that easy. Cheekbones was standing in the doorway with another silver platter, although it could’ve easily been the same one as earlier, with a large beaker filled with a gold liquid. Louis didn’t even have to ask what it was.

“It’s a shield. You’ll know when it cracks because, well, you’ll just know.”

Louis shot him a withering glare and silently pledged to stop drinking whatever strangers handed him, but they seemed to be helpful enough.

It was odd, both the taste and the fact that he didn’t _feel_ any different. He watched his hands though, watched as his arms glowed golden before the colour sank back into his skin. Louis also tried to drown out the sound of the men chattering away again in the background, but he had to take small victories for now.

“Surprising.”

“That it worked?”

“That it didn’t kill him.”

“Hm, quite.”

Louis muttered a quick thank you before he jogged on, through the door into the kitchen and back outside. It led to a small balcony for some reason, and Louis didn’t get for the life of him how anyone got up here to even _use_ the door. He felt like he was stuck now, until he looked down at the ground, and sure enough, there they were.

“Just use the skyhook.”

“That’s more the point, you know. I can see yours has blood on it.”

“May as well use it properly.”

“For the right purpose.”

For fuck’s sake. Louis threw his hands up, exasperated, and leant on the railing to peer down at them properly. “You were both _literally_ just inside. I’m not even going to ask how you ended up down there so quickly.”

“We wouldn’t tell you anyway.”

“It’s hardly the right time.”

Louis pinched the bridge of his nose, and took a deep breath. “Okay. What do you mean use the skyhook?” He pulled it from his belt and examined it properly for the first time.

He supposed it made sense, when you _really_ looked. The hooks could easily fit into the rails in the sky, but the track was complex, moving in twists and inclines that wouldn’t allow for momentum to do its thing.

“It’s magnetised. There’s a little button on the side.”

Louis hadn’t noticed it before, but there _was_ a small gold button just near his pinkie, and when he pressed it cautiously, he was suddenly pulled upwards, and everything was blurring past in a rush of wind and terror. He couldn’t help but scream for a moment, travelling too high in the sky for it to _truly_ be safe, no way to be locked in, but his eyes had adjusted now. The track was inching back around to where he’d just come from, and Louis could just make out a policeman lingering on a platform up ahead.

He had no idea where he was supposed to get off, but he’d never hated a form of transportation more, so Louis waited until he was closer, lifted his finger off the button, and somehow managed to knock over the man as he fell, just desperate to be on solid ground again. Louis scrambled to make use of the brief moment of surprise, plunging the sky hook into his neck and pulling the trigger. After, he grabbed the machine gun the man had been holding, stripped him of any ammunition and money he had on him, and clipped the skyhook back onto his belt.

With the revolver safely in one holster and the machine gun in the other, he carried on, moving through buildings and running across streets, hiding in bushes to avoid the police and cutting through houses. He’d been mostly lucky, the houses and shops empty except for one of them, where he encountered one man, who let him move through with an almost encouraging clap on the shoulder.

He’d come across an old mansion, derelict and filled with cobwebs, surrounded by crows. Louis had tried to just move through, but a light shining in a crack behind a bookcase made him explore. He’d found some kind of torture room, covered in blood with a single metal chair and tiled floor. The smell had made him wrinkle his nose and cover his mouth, but he’d also found another vigor; Murder of Crows. It seemed to send _actual crows_ to wherever he pointed, so.

Win some, lose some. 

The further he moved through the city though, the stronger something seemed to pulse through his system. A fog was starting to settle, and it was almost eerie now with no-one around, and although there was an underlying feeling of _comfort_ and _home_ when he finally saw the gold angel up close, only a long gondola ride away, he was filled with unease too, a sense that while something here was his home, it was protected by a force that didn’t bend to his will.

Louis didn’t know exactly where he was going, but he almost felt like he didn’t _need_ to know. He was being led there regardless.

It wasn’t until he was almost at the other side of the station, ready to pull a lever to summon the gondola, that he looked down at his hand in surprise. It had flared again, red and warm this time, and Louis had only _just_ enough time to get his bearings before three men were rushing at him from inside the station.

He pushed his hand out, watched as a fireball hit dead centre of their moving group, and all of them fell to the ground screaming as the flames flared up high. The smell of burning flesh floated over to him, never a pleasant thing, but Louis was too amazed at what he’d just figured out to really pay it much notice.

The vigors were trying to _help_ him, were able to somehow notice when an enemy was nearby and _warn_ him. The flares on his hands had all come at times when someone had been close by; and he was pleased when he realised it never happened when Stubble and Cheekbones were nearby.

That could’ve been due to the fact that they also seemed to just appear out of thin air, though.

When the last of the flames died out, leaving Louis a slightly panting mess as the whole morning seemed to catch up with him, his hand flared again, bright and bold, and he groaned loudly into the air.

“Really? No breaks?” he yelled with his head tilted back to the sky, closing his eyes for a brief moment.

When he opened them again, he yelped, but it was too late. There was a Zeppelin directly above him, or at least the nose of one, and there was a voice booming through the air. Louis felt like screaming. He was so _close_.

_“I know why you’ve come, False Shepherd, why you’ve infiltrated my city. I can see every sin that blackens your soul. You’re trying to repay your debt by coming after my lamb, Tomlinson, but not all debts can be repaid.”_

Louis spun as the airship moved, trying to see if anyone was standing in the cabin underneath. He assumed that this was the ‘prophet’, that Comstock, whoever he was, had finally found him.

“You don’t know me, mate!” There had to be a way up there; maybe he could make this whole thing easier by just killing this arsehole now and stealing his airship to get to the statue.

“ _Prophecy is my business, Mr. Tomlinson, as blood is yours. All these men are willing to die for me because I’ve seen their future here, and I know they will be content.”_

Louis scoffed. “Telling fortunes now, Comstock? Interesting trade.”

Comstock went on like Louis hadn’t even spoken. _“What brought you to my city, False Sherpherd? ‘Bring us the boy and wipe away the debt’? This fight will end in blood, Tomlinson. It always does with you. It’s just that this time, it’ll be yours.”_

As the Zeppelin came closer, Louis could see a small hook, almost like a grappling hook, right on the edge of the outside platform. Hoping beyond hope that he was right, he yanked the skyhook off his belt, took off at a run towards the edge and pressed the small button. His stomach dropped when he went sailing towards the ship, but it was infinitely better than falling to his death, and he managed to land somewhat gracefully on the wooden platform.

He’d never been inside an airship before, had no idea what was where or the best place to go. It was the bullet that grazed his arm as soon as he stepped through the door that gave him an inkling, though. He winced and pressed himself back against the door, fumbling as he swapped the skyhook for the revolver, and aimed straight down the hall to fire three perfect shots.

Louis made sure the men were dead as he jogged past them, travelling up three flights of stairs and down a long hallway until he came to the front. He quickly gunned down the two men in there and took the moment of peace to reload the revolver. He shoved it back into the holster and gripped the steering wheel, but then he heard a soft whirring, and the window in front of him shattered.

The wall behind him was hard when he slammed into it, glass raining down over everything and cutting his cheek. He was dizzy, off guard when he stood up shakily to face the man he recognised from the billboards. Comstock was standing with his arms spread wide on one of the small floating ships Louis had seen on his way here, and he certainly didn’t look like anything high and mighty. He just looked like a _man_ , and Louis knew without a doubt that he needed to be the one to take him down.

“The Lord forgives everything, Mr. Tomlinson,” Comstock shouted across the space between them, “but I’m simply a prophet, so I don’t have to. Amen.”

And then there were guns trained on him, and nowhere to go. Louis panicked. He hadn’t made it this far to be _killed_ already, so close to the boy that he could almost feel him like a tangible presence in the room. The wind was blustering in through the window, fierce and unforgiving, but it was nothing compared to the air rushing around him as he leapt through the broken window, skyhook in hand, managing to catch the rail underneath him just in time.

There was no way to know if he was even going in the right direction, zipping along the rail as bullets seemed to just miss him, whizzing past his ear, but he was squirming too much, too off balance from the earlier fall, and his finger slipped from the button, making him tumble, freefalling onto thick grass and landing flat on his back with the wind knocked out of him.

What a _stupid_ decision that had been. Louis knew he could’ve died, knew it had been a risk, but it had been the only decision he’d been able to make in the moment. It had been a toss up, really; death by falling, or death by gun fire, and there was no way Louis was giving Comstock the satisfaction of being the thing that killed him.

Laying on the grass, panting heavily, he tried to figure out what had just happened. Comstock had seemed to know him, knew his name and why he was here. Louis didn’t believe in prophecies or fortune telling, but he had no way of knowing right now how Comstock knew anything about him.

He also didn’t have time to lay on the grass and look at the clouds, as grey and ominous as they were, so he pushed himself up onto his feet and brushed the dirt and grass from his arse. There was lush, thick greenery surrounding him, tall trees and tiny shrubs, and stones paved in a path to a large gate. Louis realised how lucky he was that he’d fallen on the grass when anything just to the left would’ve certainly killed him.

The gate was chain-link with barbwire across the top, dangerous and possibly electrified, and there were signs too, the largest one bright red with a hazard symbol:

_OFF LIMITS_

_DANGEROUS_

_RISK OF DEATH_

When Louis glanced up towards the sky though, he knew there was absolutely no way he was going to turn around.

The gold angel was excessive up close, too large to really see any distinguishing features. A rush of calm washed over him as he stared, that now familiar pulse almost quickening to a hum, and Louis just _knew_.

He was here.

He needed to find him, needed to make sure that he was safe, that he was okay. It was an elaborate setup for keeping someone away from the world, as painful as it could be, but he wasn’t sure at this point if the boy had voluntarily locked himself away, or if Comstock had done it for him. It didn’t matter, though; Louis was getting him out of here no matter what. 

Louis ran to the gate and tried to open it, just in case. Of course it was locked. He’d hardly expected to just be able to walk in, the signs and fence supposed to be an obvious deterrent, but there’d been no harm in trying, he supposed. He walked the length of it to try and find an opening, any gap or hole that he could squeeze through, but there was nothing, and it wasn’t like he just carried wire cutters around.

And then it hit him. The hooks on the skyhook were incredibly sharp, enough to be deadly; surely the point would be sharp enough to cut through the fence. The interlocking wires weren’t overly thick, and while he didn’t have as much time as he wanted, there was enough to test it.

He almost cried with relief when he tried it, and it cut through with the ease of a hot knife through butter. Louis moved as quickly as possible, focusing as much as he could on the task rather than the fact that anyone could just come here at any time and try to kill him again.

He was really getting sick of being shot at.

As soon as the last wire was cut to create a hole big enough to step through, he wedged his way in, careful not to cut himself on the sharp edges, and jogged to the double doors. Louis took a deep breath, readying himself for whatever he’d find on the other side, but it turned out to be unnecessary.

He was so sick of angel statues. The one in this courtyard was stone, holding a scroll with familiar wording etched on it.

_THE SEED OF THE PROPHET_

_SHALL SIT THE THRONE_

_AND DOWN IN FLAME_

_THE MOUNTAINS OF MAN_

Louis frowned as he moved around it and through to the next room. It was the second time he’d seen the words since he’d been here, and the part of him that searched for knowledge was curious to know what it all meant. The other part of him thrummed with an urgency he didn’t know how to name.

The next room was filled with more red signs, more explanations of danger and a mention of a 12-hour quarantine past this point, but it was one sign in particular that made Louis recoil. 

_DANGER_

_DO NOT APPROACH THE SPECIMEN_

_SPECIMEN IS DANGEROUS_

The _specimen,_ like he was something to be poked at and prodded and _experimented_ on, as if he wasn’t even human, didn’t have the _right_ to be free. It was almost as if they treated him like he’d been created here, and Louis didn’t need to ponder anymore whether or not the boy had chosen this life for himself.

Marching through the thick doors, and knocking over the specimen sign for good measure, Louis walked down a hallway covered in diagrams, mentions of DNA and what looked like food charts and measurements. There was a golden key hanging on the wall next to a sign demanding it not be lost, so Louis took it, studying the small bird and cage engraved on it before pocketing it. He stopped to peer through a small window leading into another room, but when all he could see was what looked like a lightning rod and electricity sparking in the air around it and travelling along a wire to the left, he shrugged and stepped away.

There were more signs at the end of the hallway, ones that demanded a 72-hour quarantine now if you stepped through the next set of doors, and that you mustn’t even _speak_ to ‘the specimen’. Louis felt a pang in his chest at the thought that the boy didn’t even have any company while he was locked up here, trapped in a tower that only looked kind from the outside.

As Louis moved through the building, he passed new signs and slammed through more doors, frustration building the deeper he went.

_SPECIMEN IS DANGEROUS_

_FAILURE TO FOLLOW PROTOCOL MAY LEAD TO SEVERE INJURY OR DEATH_

_DO NOT INTERACT WITH THE SPECIMEN_

_DO NOT TALK TO THE SPECIMEN_

_SPECIMEN IS DANGEROUS_

_TURN BACK NOW_

Like hell he’d turn back now.

Wandering through the rooms in the facility did nothing to put his mind at ease. There were glass airlocked chambers with surgical beds and equipment, numerous diagrams tracking height and weight that Louis tore down, and even a projector room, showing nothing even as the machine ran, with chairs upturned like everyone had left in a hurry.

The next room he deemed safe enough to explore might have been the worst, though.

It was a darkroom, developed photos pegged onto long pieces of string that zig-zagged across the room. Every photo was of the same person, Louis was sure, but they weren’t clear enough to show any faces. There were some of just the back of his head, some with flowing ringlets and others where it was tied in a bun. There were a couple of him reading, head down and resting in the palm of his hand. It was the photos where he was getting dressed, half naked and completely unaware, that filled Louis with repulsion.

“Oh my god,” he whispered to himself as he moved along the line, “they’ve been _watching_ him, the whole time.”

He moved swiftly to the door to leave, mind still reeling as he continued on his way. How often did they take photos? There was no sense of privacy, of respect or even human decency here. Louis shifted to a light jog, the urge to fix this stronger than ever.

A large round room was his next stop, a crackling blue column straight down the centre that made the room feel alive. There was electricity running up and down it, a constant stream that made Louis wary. A machine this large had to be powering something huge, and the sign hanging next to it did nothing to help, except to boil Louis’ blood as anger flooded his body.

_SIPHON IS DANGEROUS WHILE LEECHING SPECIMEN_

_STAY AWAY_

_Leeching._ They were _taking_ something from him, draining him of _something_ , and Louis didn’t think he’d ever felt more ready for a fight than he was now. Signs surrounded the outline of the metal doors too, the doors that hopefully, _finally,_ led through to his boy. He was getting antsy now, and his skin felt like it was _vibrating_ the closer he got _._ The only thing he could blame it on was the power in the city that he’d never encountered before.

Deep down, he knew it was more than that.

Another sign stood nearby, _‘DO NOT APPROACH WHILE SPECIMEN IS AWAKE’,_ but it’d been crossed out lazily with chalk, and _‘facility UNSAFE’_ was scrawled across it.

It didn’t faze Louis in the slightest.

Bursting through, the doors opened up a much smaller room with an elevator at the end, and only one sign right next to it, and Louis scoffed at it before pressing the ‘up’ button on the wall.

_DO NOT TOUCH THE SPECIMEN UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES_

_Anyone going past this point requires approval by the Prophet and a 168-hour quarantine_

The lift arrived with a soft _ding_ , and Louis kicked at the sign before he entered, satisfied when it fell. There were no buttons in here, but the elevator started going up anyway. Louis leaned back against the wall, eyes closed and head tipped back. Whatever they’d been doing here, whatever they’d done to him, it was _done_ now. Comstock could fucking choke for all that Louis cared; he was leaving here with the boy, and no one was going to be able to stop him.

With another soft sound and the opening of the doors, Louis stepped out into a narrow hallway, stepping gingerly across a metal walkway set above a long drop that he didn’t dare to look down into. He reached the end with no incident, found himself stuck in an airlock for a moment that seemed to be trying to sanitise him, and when he could finally open the next door, he stopped short when he reached a large glass window covered by a metal screen.

The large red button sitting in front of him almost seemed to be mocking him. The plaque above the window read _‘Specimen Observation’_ , and even though Louis had come this far, he hesitated. He’d just been furious about the fact that someone had been watching; was he any better himself if he did this? Would the boy see him through the glass and get angry, refuse to come with him? There was no real way to know the best way to rescue him without looking though, so Louis took a calming breath, and pressed the button.

His heart rate rose with the screen, the squeaking of the metal almost inaudible over his pulse as it raced enough to thud in his ears. Louis couldn’t stop fidgeting as he waited, eyes following the path of the screen until it was fully up, and he looked around the room desperately.

There was no one there.

The room had a blackboard covered in equations and books everywhere, all over a workbench and spilling onto the floor. There was a guitar in the corner and a violin sitting delicately atop a piano, and Louis could see what looked like the diary that he’d found earlier in the day that spoke aloud, all at varying degrees of completion.

He swallowed back his disappointment at the room being empty, turned towards the door, but sitting in the wall was a display of some kind. There was a list of rooms, dressing room, dining room, library, bathroom, bedroom, kitchen, conservatory. They each had small unlit lights next to them, and there was a small gold button at the bottom labelled ‘specimen tracker’.

Louis turned away, his nose wrinkled as he tried to weigh up the pros and cons. He had no way of knowing where to go without using it, but once again, it was the exact kind of invasion of privacy that he was so against. Logic won out over his heart though, and he pressed the button with a heavy sigh.

Red lights flashed dimly on either side of ‘dressing room’, and Louis went out the door as quickly as possible. He was definitely deep within a research facility of some kind, long metal walkways suspended from the ceiling next to giant windows that showed outside, and how high up they were. There were cylinders of something stored under the walkways, and the loud hum of machinery. It was a tad creepy, the open area he was in, and he wandered slowly down the walkway to see that it branched off at different points onto more airlocks.

Louis passed one labelled _‘kitchen_ ’, and another labelled ‘ _conservatory’,_ walking until he found the one labelled _‘dressing room_ ’. He tried not to run before he realised no one could see him, and sprinted towards the door to the airlock. He had a brief amount of time while he was waiting in the airlock to focus on the constant feeling of _good_ that he’d been feeling all day. It was beyond anything he’d ever felt right in this moment, and he didn’t hesitate at all this time when he was out of the next door.

He slammed his hand down on the button, and the second the metal screen had lifted, every cell in Louis’ body finally settled.

There he was, and he was not a boy.

He was standing in the middle of the room, oblivious to anything happening on the other side of the glass, and reading a book. Louis stepped closer, and there was no way this man was younger than 25. The dark blue slacks he was wearing clung to his legs, little gold buttons on the side up the top sitting right near his waist. He was wearing a white blouse tucked in, the cuffs and collar the same colour as the pants. The collar had a gold trim though, and there was a darker blue neckerchief. Louis could tell that his hair was long, even though it was tied back in a bun with a blue ribbon, and he had dimples when he grinned down at his book.

He was right there, finally, and he was _beautiful._

Louis was still staring when the man let out a soft sigh and gently threw his book onto a small couch, and it was only then that Louis took a moment to have a look at the room. It was red, rich looking fabrics and dress mannequins wearing garments that looked like they had been handsewn. An immense feeling of pride shot through Louis at the realisation that this man seemed to be one of many talents. There was a jacket thrown haphazardly over a bench resting just under the glass, and a couple of pictures of the Eiffel Tower on the wall opposite him.

It became perfectly clear that the man had no idea Louis was there when he turned and moved closer to fix his hair, pushing an errant curl behind his ear and staring right at where Louis was, proving it was a two-way mirror. Christ, he was even more gorgeous up close, full lips and smooth skin like porcelain, and Louis couldn’t help but touch his fingertips to the glass.

The man froze suddenly, his hand dropping from his hair to rest delicately against his collarbones, and he drew his bottom lip into his mouth as he promptly walked out of the room.

Louis startled back when the metal sheet dropped back down automatically.

“No, where is he?” Louis muttered out loud as he found the next room display near the door.

He pressed the small button again, and as soon as the lights flashed for _‘dining room’_ , he was out the door and back onto the walkway. An odd fog had settled from somewhere, and how it’d gotten inside was impossible to know, but it was the last thing on his mind as he darted through all the doors to get to the dining room.

As soon as he was there, in front of the wide glass pane, he hit the observation button and waited, foot tapping impatiently on the floor.

The dining table and chairs seemed to be off to the side, and there were more books in here. There were paintings too, and art supplies, and the man was staring wistfully at a painting he must’ve done. It was the Eiffel Tower set against the night sky, and Louis watched as the man ran his hands down the centre and ripped a hole right in the middle of the painting.

Louis gasped, a soft quiet thing, but his mouth stayed open as he realised that it wasn’t a hole in the painting at all; the man was ripping a hole in _mid-air,_ pulling apart the very space by its seams in a smooth movement. He was putting all his effort into it, and the rip was jagged, black and white glimpses showing through the new gap, but then it seemed to almost bounce, and a portal opened up, right there in the tiny dining room.

Nothing made sense. Had they trained him to do this? Could he do this for anything, go anywhere, see everything in the world? The portal was still black and white, a little bit fuzzy, but clear enough to see that it was Paris. Everything melted into colour quick enough though as the man grinned and rocked back on his heels. He was still in the room, but Louis could see the Parisian street as if he was standing on it. The only tell was the shimmering blue light around the image, and just as Louis tried to get a better look, it snapped closed, and the man darted from the room.

Louis stared at the metal sheet that’d slipped back down over the glass for a long moment. They’d probably been taking advantage of him for _years_ , experimenting on him and watching him. He didn’t even seem to know that he was being monitored, and Louis tried to take a calming breath as he pressed the small button again to see the man had moved to the library.

He followed the walkway up a set of stairs this time, doubling back slightly when he noticed one of the voice diaries sitting in the corner of the landing. As soon as he turned the dial, he recognised the voice.

Cheekbones.

_“What makes the boy different? Well, hardly a boy anymore. He’s a man now, and a fine one at that. It is not what he is, rather than what he is not, I suspect. It seems the universe does not mix its peas with its porridge.”_

It finished with a soft noise, and Louis let his hand dangle before he carefully placed it back down. What did that even mean? The more he heard from Cheekbones, the more there seemed to be to uncover.

There were more pressing matters though, and so Louis took the stairs two at a time until he reached another airlock, another observation window, and pressed the button to lift the metal. The library was expansive, bookshelves lining every single wall and completely filled, with a level that Louis could look down on to see a gorgeous rug and comfortable chairs. It was stunning, but it couldn’t compete with the sight directly in his eye line.

The man was standing in front of a large bay window, lit gracefully by the sun streaming in. Beams of light filled up the entire room, glinted off the globe in the corner and warmed the top of the desk on the bottom floor. The window was up a set of rich wood steps, and Louis watched as the man seemed to sigh as he reached up to lay his palm flat against the window.

Louis couldn’t help but place his own palm on the glass in front of him. _Soon, love. Soon you’ll be out of here._

It didn’t matter where he was anymore, or why he’d been sent here. The fight he knew would lay outside this place had been pushed to the back of his mind. All that mattered now was the complete feeling of belonging and pure content that he could feel being here, being so close to this man. It was trying to drive him forward, move him closer until he never wanted to leave his side.

Who was he to question it?

Louis whipped his hand down and left the enclosed room, moving desperately through dank tunnels and crashing through solid doors. He was just jogging across an empty, round room when he heard a loud _crack_ , and the floor fell out from under him for the second time that day.

The fall wasn’t as long this time, and there wasn’t even enough time for him to feel any real fear before he was landing hard on a wooden floor. He tried to roll out of the way of any of the flooring that was falling around him, but he still copped a piece of wood to his forehead that made him wince.

If anything, this city just seemed to like watching him fall.

He stood up gingerly, brushing dust off his clothes and twisting his back to make sure he wasn’t hurt. It all seemed pointless though when he heard a loud scream, and then a heavy book thwacked him in the side of the face.

“ _Ow_ , what the fuck?” He clutched his face where it was throbbing, eyes squeezed shut and slightly dazed.

By the time he blinked his eyes open, he’d already been hit in the leg by another book and felt another one fly past his head. He’d fallen directly into the library apparently, and he clumsily twisted out of the line of fire as his vision came back into focus.

The man was hiding half behind one of the banisters on the staircase leading to the bay window, three more books tucked under one arm, another raised in the air with the obvious intention of throwing it straight at Louis again. Not knowing what else to do, Louis threw his hands out, palms forward, and stepped cautiously towards him.

“Hey, no, wait!” Louis managed to get out, but he flinched as the man raised his hand higher, the threat clear. He looked terrified, and Louis’ heart broke. He lowered his voice, and took another step forward. “Stop, please. I’m not here to hurt you.”

The man lowered his hand in a minute movement, but it was enough for Louis to feel something akin to hope within the warm swelling in his chest. “Who _are_ you? How did you get in here? I – no one’s ever been in here before,” he whispered, lowering his hand completely, but not dropping the book. His voice was deeper than Louis had expected, and it shot through him in waves that made him relax.

He looked so defeated now, standing in front of Louis with his toes slightly turned inward, his fingers holding tight and his hand trembling. Louis had the strongest urge to wrap him up in his arms, stroke the worried crinkle between his eyebrows until it’d vanished, stroke his hair until he fell asleep.

Might’ve been too much, too soon, though.

“’m name’s Tomlinson,” he explained, stepping closer as the man came out completely from behind the banister. “I’m a friend, please, I’m here to help you.”

The reply was instant. “No one’s ever tried to help me before.” He dropped the books and Louis sighed with relief, waiting patiently as the man slowly walked over. He cocked his head, looking Louis up and down, and then lifted his hand to slowly press their palms together where Louis’ was still in front of him. “Are you real?”

He was taller up close, although not enough to really tower over Louis, and his hand was slightly bigger, smooth and soft despite the touches of handiwork Louis had seen on the way in.

The warmth that flooded Louis at the touch was immediate, soothing and _right_ , and everything that had happened up until this point was instantly worth it. When the man entwined their fingers with a cautious optimism, eyes wide and staring at their hands, Louis knew that anything after this would be worth it too.

Louis squeezed his fingers gently and looked him directly in the eye. Intense green stared back, more alive than anything he’d already seen up here in the clouds. “I’m real enough.”

The moment was interrupted when a loud whistling pierced the air, a tune Louis didn’t recognise, and the man’s eyes darted to a statue standing in an alcove just to Louis’ right. It was made of metal, different to anything he’d seen so far, and it looked like a soldier. It had the face of Comstock though, a fact that made Louis’ eyebrows knit together, and there were American flags sticking out of its back. The man dropped Louis’ hand immediately, and not even the steam shooting from the statue’s head, or its red eyes, were enough to distract Louis from the snap that he felt in his chest when the connection was lost.

Louis was suddenly being pushed back though, and the man’s eyes were panicked. “Please, you need to go, right now, he’s coming!”

“I – what? Who’s coming?” Louis stood his ground, the urge to protect the man too strong for him to back down.

“You don’t want to be here when he comes, please, you _can’t_ be here,” the man replied frantically, but then he was looking up from where Louis had fallen and yelling. Louis could see chains high in the roof swaying, and the building shook. “I’m just getting dressed!”

Louis reached back out to wrap a gentle hand around the man’s wrist. “I can get you out of here. I’ll leave, but you have to come with me.”

The man stomped his feet, and even though the situation seemed dangerous, the move was still sweet somehow, and Louis just _wanted_. “Do you think I haven’t tried to find a way out of here? There isn’t one, okay? I’ve _looked_ , for decades I’ve _looked_.” There was a loud screech from above, and the man’s eyes shot back up to the ceiling as he yelled again. “You’re too impatient, stop it! That’s enough!”

They _had_ to leave, and Louis looked frantically for an exit, any kind of escape, but there were no signs or lights. There was only one door that Louis could see from where they were, and even though it was painted gold and designed to match the aesthetics of the library, Louis could see it for exactly what it was; another airlock door. The only other difference was the large keyhole, and with the image of the cage painted on it, a bird inside, Louis almost felt the key in his pocket _burn_. No wonder they hadn’t wanted to lose it.

The man was still looking up, calling out to someone or _something_ , and Louis tugged his wrist to get his attention again. “What about this?” He pulled the key out of his pocket, jingling it slightly, and the man finally stopped and stared.

“What? How did you – give it to me!” The key was suddenly snatched from Louis’ hand, and the man was running to the door and shoving it into the lock. There was a loud _snick_ , and he turned around to stare at Louis in disbelief. “It – it _worked._ ” A smile grew across his face, the first one Louis had seen since he’d crashed through the ceiling. “Come on, we need to leave _now_.” And then he was slipping through it, and Louis swore as he tried to catch up.

The second they were out of the airlock, the second the door opened, an alarm blared through the building, loud and accompanied by flashing red lights. They stared at each other for a moment, frozen, until another loud shriek came from somewhere above them. Louis looked around in alarm, but then the man grabbed Louis’ hand and started to run.

Louis had absolutely no idea where they were going, but he blindly followed, racing downstairs and rushing around corners, sprinting the lengths of hallways as the shrieking grew louder and the building shook. There was dust and debris raining from the ceiling, but the man just kept tugging him along.

“What _is_ that?” he yelled, almost stumbling when another tremor shook the building.

The man called back over his shoulder as he pushed through another door. “He keeps me locked up here, it’s his job! He’ll be furious, you know.”

“No fucking _shit_ ,” Louis yelled back, tightening his grip when the man almost fell. “But we’ll see about that.”

It was apparently the opening the man had needed to start a full-blown conversation, ignoring the fact that they seemed to be running for their lives. “See about what?”

Louis shook his head as they ducked to avoid a falling column. “Keeping you locked up here. Never again.”

“Who are you? Where did you come from?”

They’d just managed to find themselves back at the suspended walkway somehow, probably by _sheer luck_ , and Louis didn’t know why the questions couldn’t wait until they were safely away from here. Before he could answer, the man stopped in the middle of the walkway, right near the entrance to where he’d first seen him, and Louis ran into his back with a small _oof_.

Louis stared at him in disbelief when they came face to face. “Surely you realise that we can’t really stop here, right? C’mon love, let’s go.” His face flushed when the pet name slipped out, but the man’s expression just softened.

The building vibrated, and the shrieks grew louder, but Louis didn’t even care.

The man was whispering, and Louis had to strain to hear him. “I feel like I know you, and I don’t know how that’s possible.”

Louis was just about to answer all of his questions when the walkway shook dangerously and swung, and they both fell, hitting the metal hard as sparks flew around them. His head whipped up to make sure the man was okay, but then there was a dreadful screech, and three huge metal _claws_ had punctured the metal wall next to them. Louis watched in horror as they dragged heavily through the surface, leaving jagged cuts that let in the sunlight from outside, and then he was being tugged up and dragged through the airlock to the elevator. He didn’t tear his gaze away from the wall though, and he was positive he saw an _eye_ look through the gaps, red and mechanical, but then the door slammed shut, and it was just the two of them again.

The shrieking was more aggressive now that they’d been seen, and Louis realised they were in the small room where he’d first seen the man. He was standing in Louis’ way though, blocking the buttons to call the elevator, and Louis tried to get his attention.

“Call the elevator, fuck, please,” he begged, but the man wasn’t paying him any attention. “Fuck’s sake.” He managed to move past him and press the button, and now all they could do was wait. He turned back around just in time to see the metal shield lift on the observation window, and panic pulsed through his system. “Wait, no!”

But it was too late. The man’s hand shot to cover his mouth as he looked at his own room in horror. He turned with wide eyes to Louis. “They – they were _watching me?_ This whole time, they were watching me?” His eyes were glistening slightly, unshed tears waiting to fall, and Louis couldn’t stop himself from reaching out. “Why? Why am I _here_ Louis, I don’t understand!” He grabbed onto Louis’ vest just as Louis gripped his waist, and then Louis was pulling him into his body as he crumpled. “What am I?”

Louis didn’t have an answer. The best he could do was wrap his arms around him and let him cry into his neck. His lips rested against the man’s temple, not pressing a kiss there, just letting them connect so he could feel that warmth again that he didn’t know how to name.

“You’re the person getting out of here, no matter what,” Louis whispered, pulling him closer still as he pushed further into Louis’ neck. “ _Harry_.” It slipped out of his mouth before he’d even registered it. “I’ve got you, love.”

It was all a moot point though when they stumbled back against the glass from the force of something smashing through the building and through the back of the lift just as it arrived, a pointed metal _beak_ that looked just as dangerous as anything Louis had seen yet. He yelped as he lost his grip, and it was impossible to not see it now.

It was a _bird,_ huge and mechanical, a dark gold shell with yellow eyes now, and its head was almost as big as the room they found themselves in. It was snapping forward, and Louis could hear its claws working against the outside of the building, but then there was a loud creak, and the building seemed to collapse under the stress of whatever the bird had destroyed in its mission to get to them. A huge piece of gold came out and smashed into the bird’s head, and it was falling out of sight with a loud shriek.

The building tilted and Louis only just had enough time to grab Harry and try to pull him out of the way, but Harry had already begun to fall. They started to fall together, Louis’ arm tight around his waist and Harry’s clinging desperately around his neck. Louis tried to dig his heels in, but it was useless on the metal floor, and the only thing he managed to do was grab the skyhook as they slid down a piece of the broken floor and out into the open sky.

Harry was screaming right in his ear, distracting but motivating as they clung to each other, and Louis only had just enough energy to reach his arm out, crying out when the hook connected with the only chance at salvation that he’d seen; a skyrail.

They had too much momentum when they hit, and everything rushed past them in a blur as Louis tried to catch his breath, but the technology did its job and they slowed enough for Louis to be able to see enough to figure out where the fuck to go from here.

The first thing he saw was in the distance, partially obscured by a cluster of grey clouds; the bird, massive even from this far away, with its wings spread out fully to turn around and head straight for them. Louis swore, but they had nowhere to go, Harry’s legs wrapped tightly around his waist, so he had to watch in a building panic as the bird crashed through the arm of the statue to chase after them.

The rail suddenly swung them around, away from the statue so Louis could crane his neck just in time to see the head of the statue explode and cave in.

 _Good fucking riddance,_ he thought, and he clutched at Harry tighter out of instinct.

The bird seemed to let out an even louder cry at the sight, but then a part of the head was crashing down straight into the rail, and they were falling again, twisting through the air as Louis tried to gain any kind of control. It was too late though, their weight distribution too uneven when they fell, and Harry slipped from his grasp just as they plummeted into the water below, salt burning his nostrils as he flailed.

He had no idea where Harry had fallen, but it was all irrelevant when he kept his eyes open enough to see the bird follow him straight down into the water, its eyes glowing red as it finally managed to catch Louis in its talons.

Louis tried to kick out, tried to escape but he was rapidly running out of oxygen, and he’d never really stood a chance against the strength of the machine. He was too heavy, and the bird’s beak was opening, and Louis closed his eyes in surrender.

At least Harry had the chance to escape now, properly, away from the cage they’d locked him in.

It hadn’t even been a consideration though that the bird wasn’t supposed to submerge itself in water, but it _was_ mechanical, and when its talons started to loosen, Louis cracked his eye open to see the red light fade from the bird’s eyes, and it let go of Louis just as it seemed to almost fold in on itself, the metal in its head cracking under the water pressure. The last thing Louis saw before he lost consciousness was someone swimming frantically towards him, and then everything went black.


	3. II

_He jolted awake, a persistent thumping against the office door startling him._

_“Mr. Tomlinson, Mr. Tomlinson! Bring us the boy and wipe away the debt!”_

_Louis stood up, groggy and off centre, and his eyes immediately fell on Harry, standing against the wall with his feet crossed, mouthing the words as they were shouted through the closed door. It wasn’t his voice though, was too high and quick, and when Louis reached out to touch him, his hand fell through nothing but air._

_“What do you want with him?” Louis spat back, pure venom in his voice even though he could barely think. “Are you going to hurt him? I won’t let you!”_

_The pounding at the door just escalated. “We had a deal, Tomlinson!”_

_When Louis looked around the office again, he realised that Harry had vanished. He spun frantically, ignoring whoever was at the door._

_“Harry? Harry!”_

Everything was warm.

Almost too warm, the sun glaring down when everything flooded back to him. 

Louis had no idea how long he’d been out of the water, but his clothes felt relatively dry, so it must’ve been long enough for the sun to warm him through. There was a hand cupping his cheek though, and when he blinked his eyes open, green eyes stared back at him.

“I’m just here, don’t worry, I’m here.”

He must’ve been saying Harry’s name as he came to. He smacked his lips, letting his tongue run out to wet them. “Where am I?”

There was a soft chuckle, and Harry was shifting back. “Not dead. You’re welcome. Come on, let me give you a hand up.”

It was sand underneath him, Louis realised as Harry pulled him to his feet. They were on a beach, and there were people everywhere in bathing suits, sitting under umbrellas or having picnics, splashing through the water without a care in the world. Only a few people seemed to be looking at them oddly, and when Louis glanced up, the angel statue on the island opposite was mostly still standing, and clouds covered where the head had exploded. He had no idea how nobody had noticed though, how no one had heard the noise or seen the bird, but he wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

He brushed sand off himself, and then Harry was right next to him with his bottom lip pulled between his teeth. Louis looked at him curiously. “What is it?”

Harry seemed to hesitate. “I – it’s just that you called me Harry earlier, and I never told you my name?”

Louis blinked. He could remember it now, how easily the name had fallen from his mouth when Harry had needed him, but he had no recollection of how he’d even known what it was.

Or how Harry had known Louis’ name, either.

“You called me Louis. I didn’t tell you my first name, only my last.”

People ran around them, throwing a ball back and forth, and Louis could hear the waves in the background, but there was nothing that could’ve stolen his attention from the man in front of him.

It was soft when Harry spoke again, and he shrugged. “I just…knew.” He didn’t offer anything else, but Louis didn’t need him to.

“Yeah,” he replied, just as softly. “Me too.”

They stared at each other for a beat before Harry’s expression perked up and he turned his head towards the building that sat along the middle of the beach.

“Music! Can you hear that? Let’s go!” Harry was beaming, and it hit Louis that he didn’t even know the last time that Harry had been outside, when he’d last felt the wind on his face or the sand between his toes, when he’d even seen other _people_. 

Certainly not since he’d been a child.

It made Louis swallow the words that sat on his tongue, the ones that almost groaned and refused to follow the music. They had to leave here, _now_ realistically, and even though Louis was supposed to take Harry back to London to whoever it was that wanted him, the idea seemed laughable now.

He was never going to hand him over to anyone, never going to let anyone use him again. Louis had no idea where they’d go instead, just knew that they’d have to at least stop in at London to grab some supplies before they vanished, hopefully where no one could ever find them again.

Now the main problem was how’d they leave here at all.

Harry’s face was so hopeful though, his eyes wide and hands clasped in front of him. Louis never stood a chance.

“Alright,” he sighed, and reached out to entwine their fingers. He jolted back though when he remembered where they were; people didn’t often take too kindly to two men together. “Let’s go then.”

They moved across the beach together, Harry’s head constantly turning from one thing to the next, a permanent smile on his face and dimples pushed into his cheeks as he said hello to everyone they passed. The only thing that was lucky about Harry being locked away since he was so young was that there was no chance anyone down here would recognise him; they’d simply never seen him before, probably didn’t even know he existed in this way. Louis was slightly more on edge, eyes darting around the beach for any possible threats to him or Harry. Everyone just seemed to be enjoying the day so far though, but Louis couldn’t relax until they were on the way out of this fucked up place.

It was a strange juxtaposition, the way that, on the surface, this city seemed wholesome and family friendly, one big community with similar values. It wasn’t until you pushed deeper that you found the dark underbelly, and now that Louis knew about it, he wasn’t going to let his guard down.

A tug on his wrist pulled him back to the present, and Harry was grinning at him from his place inside a group of people dancing. Colourful dresses flared out as the couples spun, and Louis’ heart sank when he realised that he was going to have to reject Harry here, someone he barely knew but felt an instant connection with.

Because of course, all of the couples were opposite sex couples, and Harry was going to ask him to dance.

“Dance with me, Louis!”

Called it.

“I – I don’t dance, ‘m sorry.” It was a decent enough excuse, he thought, but Harry’s face fell.

“What do you mean you don’t dance?” Harry stepped forward and reached out for Louis, close enough that he had to take a quick step back. “What could be better?”

Louis didn’t have an answer to that, and he needed to move them off the beach before anyone paid them any real attention. “How about,” Louis paused, and then he saw another airship behind Harry’s head as it flew over the water. The images of Paris plastered throughout Harry’s only home suddenly popped up in his head, and he was speaking again without a second thought, “Paris! We would go to Paris!”

Harry’s face lit up again, and Louis found himself thinking that it was all he’d ever want, seeing Harry that happy.

“Oh, really Louis? I’ve always wanted to go, how would we get there though?”

Louis pointed behind him, and Harry spun to follow it. “That airship.” He was really just pulling shit from nowhere now, but surely if they could just get on it somehow, he could figure out how to fly it. Maybe.

“Wonderful! Let’s go!”

And then Harry was racing towards the gondola station that sat nearby, the tracks leading up to where the airship had just docked, and Louis was almost out of breath by the time he caught up to him just outside a gift shop. Harry was looking back at the beach, expression open and fond, and Louis couldn’t help but stare. He was beautiful, was the thing, more beautiful than Louis had ever thought anyone had any right to be.

“I can’t believe I’m finally out.” Harry shook his head in what looked like disbelief. “I’ve never smelt anything like the ocean before.”

Louis smiled softly, never looking away from Harry’s face. “Yeah. I don’t think there’s anything else that smells quite like it.”

They walked into the gift shop filled with posters of Comstock’s face, proclaiming him as the Prophet, and Louis sneered. It was necessary to walk through to get to the other side, to get to the gondola and to their most realistic chance of escape, but if he saw one more tiny American flag on a stick, he thought he might scream. He’d already made it to the door by the time he realised Harry wasn’t next to him anymore, and when he turned around, heart in his throat because what if someone had _taken_ him, Harry was simply standing in front of one of the posters.

“I’ve heard of him. Comstock.” Harry’s head was tilted to the side as he studied it, and Louis fought the urge to tuck an errant curl back into his bun. “They say he can see the future.”

Louis scoffed, sidling up to him. “It’s only because they don’t know any better. I say he’s just let too much power go to his head.”

Harry was quiet for a moment, but he swayed slightly to press against Louis’ side, warm and welcome. “I don’t like the look of him.”

There were no other customers in the shop to distract the shopkeeper from Harry’s chatter, and before Louis could urge him out the door, the man had stepped up and grabbed Harry’s forearm tight enough to make him wince.

“Do not like his look, or do not like his gaze? He can see everyone’s sins, you know.”

The situation was delicate, and they needed to be careful here, but there was no way Louis was going to let anyone in this city touch Harry ever again. He stepped forward slowly, kept his movements careful and smooth, and forcibly removed the man’s hand from Harry’s arm, staring at him the whole time in case he moved suddenly or reached for any kind of weapon. Louis’ body was still tense though, ready to fight just in case.

It was only Harry’s soft voice right next to his ear that snapped him out of it. “Louis, can we leave now? Please.”

“Of course,” Louis murmured back, and then his hand flared, red and angry.

Very delicate situation, then. Still moving slowly, he kept eye contact with the shopkeeper the whole time as they made their way to the exit, and as soon as they were out, Louis put his hand on the small of Harry’s back. They moved through a hallway for a while in complete silence, and as soon as they stepped back outside, Louis had to shake his head to make sure of what he was seeing. He didn’t make any effort to move, but it didn’t matter because Harry had already run up to them and was looking at something in their hands. Jewellery, maybe? It glinted in the sun from the soft pillows they’d placed them on.

Louis sighed heavily and wandered over, nodding his head politely when he stopped next to Harry.

“Stubble, Cheekbones.” Both men ignored him, and he couldn’t help but feel affronted. “Well, I’ll just go fuck myself then.” He felt a rush of satisfaction though when he saw Cheekbones’ mouth twitch with a smile.

“Louis, look! Pins!” Harry picked them up, one from each pillow, and held them out to Louis carefully. 

It was Stubble that spoke first, although it usually was. Louis wasn’t surprised when his companion spoke immediately after him.

“The bird?”

“Or the cage?”

“Or perhaps the bird.”

“Nothing beats the cage.”

Louis couldn’t hold back his groan now. “Really? You two again?” Harry was too busy studying the pins to pay any attention. “How are you doing this, seriously? It’s really creepy.” All they did was glance at him though, so Louis resigned himself to the fact that apparently, he had another choice to make.

Harry turned to him. “Which one do you like better?”

They were almost like brooches, one a gold bird and the other a gold cage sitting against a white background, a gold trim surrounding the entire thing. The bird made the most sense, because that _was_ Harry; caged for so long and finally free. Louis pointed to the bird, and Harry made a happy noise as Stubble seemed to pull a strip of material from nowhere so Harry could fasten it around his neck. It sat delicately against the hollow of his throat, a pretty little choker, and Louis swallowed heavily. Now was not the time for any kind of thoughts that he couldn’t control. Cheekbones was talking again though, and that helped extinguish anything untoward.

“Funny, I expected the cage.”

“You know, if you’re going to be a sore loser, I’m not doing this again.”

“Well darling, 123rd time’s the charm.”

Louis opened his mouth to tell them to move so they could keep going, but all of the citizens around them seemed to gasp, and Louis looked up to see that the clouds had moved, and the destroyed head of the statue was visible, still smoking slightly in a way that had blended in with the clouds that had hid it for so long. When he looked back down, the men had vanished, and Harry was curling in on himself.

“Harry, are you okay?” Louis placed a soft hand on his back, but Harry just pushed out a shuddering breath and relaxed back into it.

“I know I had no choice, Louis, but,” he paused, and Louis could see the pain in his eyes, “it was still my _home._ All of my painting and books, all the clothes I’d made and the inventions I’d been working on, just... gone.”

It was a risk, but with everyone distracted, Louis pressed a lingering kiss to Harry’s temple. “I’m sorry, but we really need to get out of here now. Like, right now.” He was getting antsy as everyone around them seemed to catch onto what had happened, and there were too many people around for Louis to really protect them if they were discovered.

Harry seemed to shake himself out of it, and then they were weaving through the crowd, and Louis couldn’t help but eavesdrop as they moved.

“ – and where’s the Songbird? Oh, this is dreadful.”

“It’ll set this right, he’s the sword of vengeance! It’ll know what to do.”

Louis wasn’t sure how he’d begin to tell them that their precious songbird was dead, sitting at the bottom of their ocean that defied gravity. He tried not to smirk at the thought. The station was straight ahead, and Louis let himself breathe again until he realised there was a police barricade. He threw his arm out to stop Harry so he could listen as the police waved people through.

“Make sure you have your ID ready, come on.”

He swore under his breath. There was no way they could make it through here without detection. He paced slightly as he tried to think of the best way around it, but then Harry was tugging on his sleeve and moving them to a small door hidden off to the side. Harry pulled at it, but it was locked, and Louis swore again. 

“I’ve got the exact thing we need,” Harry whispered, and Louis watched curiously as he pulled something out of his pocket and knelt in front of the locked door.

Louis could hear a group of policemen coming their way, his heart racing as he started to think of strategies, but just before they reached them, Harry had opened the door and pulled him through it into a building. When Louis did nothing but stare at him in disbelief, Harry just grinned and held up a lockpicking kit.

“How the fuck do you know how to do that?” Louis asked in amazement, because somehow, knowing that Harry was a little bit reckless made him even more attractive. 

Harry just snorted, pushing past him to look out into a hallway. “Alone in a library with only books and a giant bird for company? You’d be surprised at what I know how to do.”

Louis laughed, probably too loud for where they were, but Harry just turned to grin at him. “I have no doubt, love.”

The building was quiet as they moved through it, following the signs to the station. Harry kept finding things along the way, coins and snacks and salts, but just as Louis saw an end in sight, there was movement in the shadows of one of the hallways. Louis pushed Harry behind him with his arm, the other reaching for his gun, but then a weary looking couple stepped out, and their eyes lit up when they saw Louis. They looked incredibly familiar, but Louis couldn’t place it.

“Do I know you?” He let his hand rest on the grip of the machine gun, just in case, but he really didn’t need to bother.

The man stepped forward, arms behind his back. “You saved us earlier, at the lottery? You didn’t hurt us, you didn’t even _try_ to, and you let us get away.”

“We want to help you, if we can,” the woman added, and Louis could feel Harry peering over his shoulder. “And thank you. You saved our lives.”

Louis had never done well at accepting praise, and he felt his face flush. He’d only done the right thing, hadn’t even questioned it for a second, but there was such a sense of relief at seeing them safe and well that he just smiled. There was a beat, the hallway silent, and then they were grinning back.

Harry had apparently decided he’d been patient for long enough now, and his voice was right near Louis’ ear when he interrupted. “Louis, what are they talking about?”

“He saved us,” the man piped up, and then he was holding out a blue bottle with a lightning bolt as a stopper; another vigor, Shock Jockey written on the side.

Louis took it gratefully, drinking it without question as the man explained that it was a form of electricity, and allowed anyone who took it to shock machines, or man. He watched as the vigor settled into his body, hardly even flinching when sparks flew between his fingertips and his veins burnt a bright blue.

“Thank you,” Louis said, and he meant it sincerely, because while the other vigors seemed to be best for battle, Louis couldn’t help but think about the practical uses this one could have.

The couple just smiled at him, and then ducked down the hallway that Louis and Harry had just come from. Louis called out before they could vanish though to warn them about the police presence at the entrance, and then with a short nod, him and Harry walked out the door and straight into a busy station.

Fuck. There were people _everywhere_ , and they needed to be careful here. Louis shoved his branded hand into his pocket just in case, and ushered Harry towards the ticketing booth. Harry got distracted though by a cheery man selling cotton candy.

“Oh, what’s this?” He looked too delighted at the prospect of trying something new, and Louis couldn’t say no when his dimples popped. As soon as he had it in his hand, he shoved his face into the soft candy, and Louis had to stifle a laugh. “It’s not what I expected, but somehow it’s better,” Harry announced as he tore off a strip to throw in his mouth, his grin wide and sticky from the sugar.

Suddenly Louis was hit by something in his mind, something that couldn’t have been a memory even though it _felt_ like one. Harry was eating cotton candy, but his hair was out of his bun, long and curly, and his clothes too odd to fit in here, and Louis didn’t recognise any part of where they were. His head spun as he tried to make sense of it, but then Harry was laughing in the vision, and Louis was leaning forward to kiss the sweetness from his mouth and laughing with him, lips pressed together.

It took Harry dabbing a napkin under his nose to bring him back, and Louis looked at him in alarm as he begged his pulse to slow.

“You’re bleeding,” Harry said quietly, and Louis couldn’t seem to do anything other than stand there while Harry cleaned his bloody nose. “Does this happen often?”

How was he supposed to explain that it didn’t? That Louis had just had a bloody nose because he’d seen them, together, somewhere completely new and confusing?

“Yeah,” he lied instead, reaching up to cover Harry’s hand with his own, taking the napkin and throwing it in a nearby bin when he was sure the blood had stopped, “yeah, it does. Come on, we need to get our tickets.”

Harry still looked worried, but he turned back to finish his cotton candy with a small smile. “To Paris!”

Louis’ hand flamed.

He didn’t want to alarm Harry, so he just wandered over to the booth, keeping Harry behind him as he tried to suss out the whole level. There was a policeman loitering near the toilets, but he wasn’t even looking at them, so Louis just quickened his pace until he was right in front of the small window. The cashier was on the phone, but Louis spoke anyway. His mother would be horrified.

“Two tickets please, up to the airship.”

The man glanced at him, but it was nothing of note. “Yeah, one minute mate.” He went back to his phone call as Louis tapped his fingers on the counter. “Yeah, yeah I’ve got it. How should we proceed?”

They didn’t have time for this. He was already anxious enough, could feel it like a physical thing in the room. He turned to look at Harry, and his stress melted away for a second when he found him crouched on the floor playing with a little girl, laughing as the girl shrieked happily. Louis almost didn’t hear the next words spoken into the phone.

“Yeah, I’ve got it right in front of me.”

There was nothing in front of him. Louis could see his desk, see that it was empty. The only thing in front of him was, well, Louis.

Just in time, Louis’ hand flared, and sparks shot into the ground. The man’s gaze snapped to Louis’, and then he was speaking quickly down the phone again.

“Send in the bird, we’re ready to execute.”

Louis was grabbing the machine gun from his back before he could even actively make the decision, and then the level was filled with cops as they cleared everyone else out, screaming and running. Fuck, he should’ve _known_ better. He looked frantically for Harry, and when he saw him crouching behind a large plant, it gave him a slight feeling of relief.

He pulled the trigger, firing in short bursts before ducking and rolling to avoid their return fire, watching keenly as three of them fell in a spray of his bullets. Louis ducked behind a column, flinching as bullets cracked into the marble, chunks of it falling to the floor and one slicing his hand, but then he stuck his head out and fired again, taking out four more in rapid bursts until he had to reload.

It was a scramble to pull the ammunition from the bag on his back and he used the time that his hands were busy to check up on Harry. He was still in the same place, looking terrified but safe, and in the moment, that was the only thing that mattered.

Louis slid the curved magazine into place, and by the time he’d taken down the rest of the policemen, he was dangerously low on ammo. He jogged between the bodies, taking what he could and swallowing any salts he came across just in case. By the time he turned to get back to Harry though, he was already standing in the middle of the room, hand covering his face as he looked at all the bodies.

Louis’ stomach sank to his feet, and he carefully put the gun back in the holster. “Harry…”

“You killed all of these people,” he whispered, and it was shaky, horrified as he lifted his gaze to meet Louis’ head on. “You – you _killed_ them, Louis.”

“Harry, please.” Louis stepped forward.

Harry held his hands up, and Louis had to watch them as they trembled. “Stay away from me!” And then he was running, and Louis was swearing profusely as he followed him and tried to catch up. 

He kept calling out, frantic as he lost him in the maze of the building, the one positive of the whole experience the shotgun that he had managed to take from someone after he shot them in between the eyes with his revolver. The only place he could think that Harry would be was outside at the gondola, and he breathed a sigh of relief when he finally made it there, panting and doubled over, to find Harry standing right near the edge of the platform.

“Jesus fucking _Christ_ ,” Louis hissed to himself, and then he raised his voice as he jogged over. “Harry, just stay where you are, okay?”

“Go away!” Harry didn’t even turn to look at him as he wrenched open the gondola’s door, desperately trying to escape, and when Louis finally caught up with him, he was trying to figure out how to start it. “Leave me _alone_ , Louis!”

Harry was taking short, sharp breaths, and his hands were still trembling as he ran them over the buttons. Louis instantly felt awful; he was supposed to be protecting Harry, not _scaring_ him, but hadn’t that been what he’d done? Killed all those men so they couldn’t dare touch his boy? Without any prompting, Louis stepped forward and pulled a lever under the control panel, and the gondola started moving slowly with a shudder.

They were both silent for a moment, and Louis could see a tear slowly trail down Harry’s cheek before he wiped it away with a sniff. His arms were crossed, and he hadn’t so much as looked at Louis since he’d found him.

Just as Louis was about to sit down and wait until Harry was ready to talk, Harry shook his head rapidly. “You killed all those people. _All_ of them, you just – you shot them, like it didn’t even matter!” He threw his hands up, and his face was flushed. “I can’t believe you did that.”

“Harry – .”

“You’re a monster!”

Louis bristled. “Hey, hold on – .”

“And you’re no better than them!”

That was the tipping point. Louis swung around to face him head on, heat flaring in his veins. “What did you think was happening here? Did you think they’d just let you wander out of here, not a care in the world?” Louis laughed, but it was hard, and Harry turned to face him, his expression still closed off. “Do you have any idea what these people have done, how much work they’ve put in to keep you locked in that tower? They see you as an _experiment_ , Harry, an _investment_ , something for them to play with, and you’re not going to be safe until we’re as far away as possible!”

The only sound now was the creaking of the gondola as it travelled higher still, but Harry unfolded his arms, his defensive stance softening, and it felt like a small win. “What do they want from me?”

Louis answered the only way he knew how to in the moment; honestly. “I don’t know. I don’t want to stick around and find out though.”

Harry shifted closer, and his expression had softened now too. “So, you’ll protect me? Take me away from here?”

“So, I’ll protect you, as best as I can, and take you away from here,” Louis repeated back to him, strong and sure.

He didn’t add that he’d protect him even if it killed him, that he couldn’t have been prepared for this mission, and that he knew, deep down, what the feeling was that he felt every time Harry so much as looked at him, regardless of how crazy it seemed. It was much too soon to voice it though.

_But when you know, you know._

They were both quiet again until Harry made a small, worried noise, and stepped into Louis’ space to cup his hand gently between his. He’d completely forgotten about the marble that’d sliced the back of his hand open during the gunfight, but he was bleeding, and Harry was examining it carefully.

“Do you have any bandages in there?” He gestured to the bag on Louis’ back, and Louis nodded slowly. Harry just looked amused, though. “Can I have them, or are you stockpiling them?”

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Louis swung the bag off his back, reaching in and handing Harry a first aid kit. “Cheeky, cheeky.” He huffed out a laugh when Harry winked at him.

He really was bleeding a lot, and the cut was deeper than he’d first thought, but when Harry pulled out a needle and some type of thread, Louis blanched and shifted away. Harry just rolled his eyes and pulled him back by his neckerchief, giggling as Louis spluttered.

“This is going to hurt, but it’ll hurt more later if you don’t let me stitch it up now,” Harry warned, letting go of the material around Louis’ neck to thread the needle.

Louis _hated_ needles. He hated everything about them, and the thought of Harry using one to _stitch up his hand_ had him feeling slightly faint.

Harry looked up at him and did a double take before rolling his eyes. “Here, at least sit down.” He pushed Louis into a bench seat with one hand, and threw him a damp cloth that he’d pulled from somewhere. Louis just stared at it until Harry sighed. “Clean up the blood, please.”

His movements were robotic as he did what Harry asked, methodically wiping all the blood away until it was just an open wound.

“Is it the blood, or the needle?” Harry had moved to straddle a chair he’d found in the corner, and was sitting directly in front of Louis, threaded needle ready to go.

Louis still felt vaguely ill, and his voice was croaky. “Needle. Don’t care about blood.”

Harry hummed, and took Louis’ hand in his again. “Now,” Louis looked up at him as he spoke, his voice slightly calming. “Just look at me, okay? The whole time, just look at me. It’ll hurt, but there’s no way around it.”

“Okay.” Louis took a deep breath, and started studying Harry’s face now that it was close.

Even counting Harry’s long eyelashes did nothing to stop the pain as he threaded the needle through the back of Louis’ hand, and admiring the slope of Harry’s nose wasn’t enough to block out the soft tugging he felt wherever Harry knitted his skin back together. It all felt worth it though when Harry was finally finished, wrapping a bandage around it, and he looked up triumphantly, so close to Louis that their noses brushed.

Louis heard Harry gasp softly, heard the soft _tink_ of the needle hitting the floor of the gondola, and he _wanted_. He wanted what he’d seen in that peculiar memory, wanted to kiss Harry and swallow all the sounds he made, wanted to cup his face and kiss him until they were both dizzy, and not from the sugar that’d clung to Harry’s lips.

He reached up, wincing slightly at the ache in his hand but pushing past it to gently tuck one of Harry’s stray curls back behind his ear. Harry’s eyes were so _green_ , open and trusting again, and Louis let his thumb rub against the shell of his ear. He watched in fascination as Harry’s eyes fluttered shut, and he could feel the shaky exhale Harry let out as Louis let his hand fall to thumb across Harry’s bottom lip.

The gondola stopped with a sudden movement, enough to swing the entire thing slightly, and they both jolted where they sat. Louis hardly even had time to mourn the loss of the moment before Harry was standing swiftly, hands nervously playing with the buttons on his blouse.

“Will there be more of that?” Louis was slightly pleased that Harry’s voice was shaky.

Louis stood up and stretched, flexing his hand when he realised the bandage covered the brand he’d been trying to hide. Helpful. “More of the fighting, or more of the injuries?”

“Both.” Harry laughed, and started packing the first aid kit back in the box.

Louis chuckled as he took it from him and threw it back in the bag. “I think so.”

Harry just raised his eyebrows, but there was a smile playing around his lips. “Lucky I’ve read a few medical books in my time, then. Oh, and here.” He flipped a coin at Louis, who caught it in mid-air. “I found it in the corner over there.”

Louis grinned at him, shoving the coin in his pocket as they made their way out of the gondola and up a set of stairs, under an archway that read ‘ _Soldier’s Field’_ and straight out into what looked like a carnival. It was eerie though, a thick fog now that they were up higher, a chill in the air that sank straight down into Louis’ bones.

It was also intensely patriotic up here too, flags and eagle imagery everywhere. Harry wandered through the first section with what looked like sincere interest, and Louis just hung back to watch him as he moved. He was graceful in his movements, soft and delicate, and Louis could’ve just stared at him all day.

“I’ve read about this place,” Harry mused, running his hand over a painting of children in some kind of uniform. “They tried to use it to get children interested in the military so they’d join Comstock’s forces when they came of age.”

Louis wrinkled his nose, moving past Harry to peer out over the carnival. “That’s creepy.”

“Quite, but you know what they say,” Harry replied easily. “Train up a child in the way he should go, and even when he is old, he will not depart from it.”

“Who said that?”

“No one important.”

They moved swiftly down a set of stairs and along a wooden boardwalk that seemed to hold most of the rides. Louis felt uneasy, something unsettling in the air, but Harry just seemed excited, happy still to be outside and explore places he’d only ever read about.

It was no surprise that Harry felt like it was the perfect time for a deep conversation.

“Why did they send you to come and get me?”

Louis hummed, bending down to pick up some coins on a bench. “I don’t know.” He pocketed them and kept his hand there to try and escape some of the chill. “But I know I need to be here, as strange as this place is.”

“Is it what you expected? Columbia?” Harry was weaving through a carousel they’d come across, patting the plastic horses gently as he passed. Louis couldn’t keep the fond smile off his face.

“I didn’t even know it existed.”

Harry looked back at him then, a genuine look of shock on his features. “I just assumed everyone knew about it. It’s a bit hard to hide, isn’t it? A city in the sky?”

Louis had thought so too. It was impossible to fathom how the rest of the world had no idea about it all, this seemingly magical place, but maybe everyone who found out about it just ended up here.

They needed to get one last gondola up to the airship, and Harry kept chatting as they walked, warming Louis from the inside out.

“So what do you do down there?” Harry asked at one point, chewing on a granola bar they’d found and swinging around a lamp post. Louis caught him when he’d stumbled off it, and they grinned at each other for a moment before moving on.

With Harry, it was easy to get lost in the way they fit together, the way they seemed to complete each other, and when Harry tangled their fingers together, it was even easier.

Louis cleared his throat awkwardly. “I’m an…independent contractor, I suppose. Just take on jobs whenever I want to.”

“Do you usually get to travel?”

The question had been asked so innocently that Louis had to stifle a laugh. “I can’t say I’ve ever had to travel quite like this before, no.” He squeezed Harry’s fingers gently, pleased when he squeezed back. “I love travelling, though. It lets me escape the trouble that waits for me back in London.”

“Oh.” Louis grateful when Harry didn’t press. “When you do have to travel, is there, ah,” Harry paused, “a woman at home?”

Louis hid his grin in his collar. “No. Never has been.”

“Oh.” Another pause. “So you’ve always been alone?”

Jesus. “I never said that.”

“ _Oh_. A – a man in your life, then?”

Louis snuck a glance at Harry and couldn’t help but chuckle at the flush on his cheeks. “I didn’t think it would be a problem, considering.” He raised his eyebrows when Harry glanced back, and Louis lifted their joined hands in the air between them.

Harry seemed to splutter, almost choking on his tongue in his haste to correct any misunderstanding. “Of _course_ it’s not a problem, I just wasn’t sure if this was – I don’t know.” He looked completely miserable now, and Louis just couldn’t have that.

He gently pulled on Harry’s hand to get him to stop, and pressed their foreheads together with a hand on the back of his neck. “You have nothing to worry about there, love.” He nudged their noses together, delighted when Harry laughed softly, before leaning back and walking again. “But no, nothing serious. Always felt like I was missing something, I suppose.”

_You. It was you. I know that now, because you feel like home, like everything’s finally right._

“Is it just as bad down there? The hate towards people – people like us?” Harry’s voice had gone quiet, and Louis just wanted to wrap him up in wool and take him far away.

He was on his way to doing half of it, he supposed.

Louis sighed, and gripped Harry’s hand tighter. “Yeah,” he answered honestly. “It is, but we’ll go somewhere they can’t find us, Harry. Where no one can.”

It shouldn’t have been a surprise that when they got to the gondola and Louis pulled the lever to call it down, it short circuited, sparks raining down onto him as they jumped back. Louis groaned, turning to punch the wall to let out some of his frustration, but he stopped when he realised that he didn’t want to scare Harry again. He leaned against it instead, forehead pressed against the rough stone, when a flyer caught his attention.

The name was eerily familiar, but Louis didn’t know why.

_HORAN’S ELECTRICS._

_You have a problem?_

_We’ll fix it!_

It seemed to be the only option they had at this point in time. Louis tried shocking the gondola with the vigor, but all it did was send more sparks into the air. He looked back at the flyer; there was an address on it, something about a shop located in ‘The Hall of Heroes’. 

Louis asked Harry if he had any idea where it would be, knowing he’d read countless books about the city, but Harry simply raised an eyebrow, and pointed across the town square to the building opposite from them.

_HALL OF HEROES_

“Well, okay, a simple _yes_ would’ve worked,” Louis grumbled, turning away to hide a smile when Harry giggled. “Alright, let’s go. They might try to kill us, but it’s the only thing that might work.”

Harry went to move, grabbing Louis’ hand again, but he recoiled suddenly, and Louis had a sinking feeling that he knew why. He looked down, watched as his hand lit up with electricity, and groaned. Of _course_. He gently pushed Harry down to hide behind a large bin, whispering a quick _sorry_ , then whipped the shotgun off his back, standing to face the small army of men suddenly rushing at him.

Well, maybe not a small army, but at least a dozen. 

The first half fell easily, a swift use of the Shock Jockey vigor that left them seizing where they stood before they dropped to the ground, still sparking. It didn’t deter the other men at all however, and so Louis used the cover of some benches to get slightly closer, loading his shotgun as he stayed hidden. 

He needed to wait until they got closer before shooting at them, the shotgun not good enough at distance, but it was a risk he had to take. He could hear their footsteps as they closed in, felt the adrenaline coursing through this body, and at the last possible moment, he popped around the corner, sent a fireball at them with a flick of his wrist, and pulled the trigger.

He managed to take four of them out with the vigor, and the only two left fell quickly after Louis shot again, bullets leaving the gun and finding their way straight into their chests. The repetitive sound of the gun going off finally faded out, and all that was left was the wind rushing through the gaps between the buildings.

“Harry? You can come out now love, it’s safe.” Louis watched his head poke out first, felt on edge that he’d run again, but then he was quickly moving to Louis’ side and checking him for any injuries. Louis sighed, but it was soft. “I’m fine, c’mon, we really need to get a move on.”

It was easy enough to get into the building with Harry’s lockpick, and to find the map that said Horan’s Electrics was on level 4. It wasn’t until they were in the elevator that there were any problems, the lift breaking down midway, a poster of Songbird on the elevator wall the only thing to keep them company. Louis swore and pulled open the control panel in the wall. There were a couple of wires that seemed to be crossed, rubbing against each other dangerously, and Louis tried to figure out the best thing to do.

“Louis,” Harry hissed, distracting him from where he’d been trying to line up some wires. “There’s a _bee_ in here.”

Louis froze for a moment, turning to stare at Harry incredulously. “Harry, it’s just a bee. Kill it.”

“It’ll sting me!”

A heavy sigh. “Harry, it’s just a bee, just take off your shoe and whack it.” Louis kept working on the small bundle of wires, untangling them, yelping when a small noise startled him, as on edge as he was, but he wasn’t distracted enough to miss the _‘oh wait!’_ that came from behind him. He looked over his shoulder, checking to make sure Harry was okay, but he quickly turned around when he saw what he was doing.

Harry was opening a _portal_ like Louis had seen back in his dining room, pulling the middle of the poster apart to reveal a park, black and white before it sank into its colours, green grass and blue sky, filled with trees and flowers. Louis hadn’t even noticed the park on the poster before Harry had seemingly _opened up the air,_ but there it was. Harry casually ushered the bee out through the hole into the park, and smiled happily as it buzzed away.

Louis couldn’t move. “I – what the fuck are you actually doing?”

“Oh, it’s a tear! It’s kinda like a window to another universe. I open them all the time.”

Louis struggled to find any words. Alternate universes? Maybe the reason they’d tried to experiment on Harry had just become clearer. “That’s – well, it’s bloody amazing, to be honest.” He stepped closer, hesitant to try and touch anything, but content to look. He could feel the breeze on his face, and he laughed, astonished, as Harry seemed to turn shy. “Do you always need a picture leading somewhere?”

“Not always,” Harry shrugged before reaching right into the tear, “but more often the older I’ve gotten. I used to just be able to make them appear from nowhere, but the power behind it just hasn’t been as strong. It’s been better recently, but not enough for me to try it out.”

“How long’s it been stronger for? I’m sure you’d be able to do it. You’re brilliant,” Louis confessed, and he watched with wide eyes as Harry’s hand came back through the portal, a pure white rose clutched in his hand. Louis seemed to forget how it felt to breathe as Harry buried his nose in the flower and looked across at him, eyes half lidded and so addictive that Louis clenched his hands into fists to stop from dragging him closer.

“Ever since I first saw you.”

Louis was about to say _fuck it_ , cross the small distance between them and kiss Harry until neither of them could stand, but the tear was still open, and it wasn’t safe. He took a deep breath. “So, it can be anything?”

The twinkle in Harry’s eye told him that he knew exactly where Louis’ train of thought had taken him. He put the rose carefully behind his ear, and Louis was so endeared he thought his heart would melt. “Yeah, anything. Usually it’s pretty boring, just a different colour dress here, a cup of coffee instead of tea, but other times,” Harry’s eyes were bright now, and focused completely on Louis, “other times it’s brilliant. I’ve seen so many things that no one would believe, Louis.”

He could hear Harry still talking, but a movement behind him in the tear caught his eye, and the outline was immediately familiar. In the sky through the tear, Songbird was soaring, and judging by the sound it made and the way its shadow twisted, it had seen them.

“Fuck, Harry, close the tear,” Louis spat out, desperate even as Harry turned in shock. “It’s coming straight for us Harry, close it!”

“I’m trying!”

Songbird was getting closer, flattening its wings to his body and opening its beak, and Louis thought, for maybe the hundredth time today, that he was going to die. It wasn’t until Harry gave one last tug to the edges of the tear that it closed, and they were once more bathed in only the dim elevator light, the only sounds their heavy breathing.

Louis threw his head back against the wall of the elevator with a harsh laugh. “It almost _killed_ us, Harry.”

“It doesn’t always! That hardly ever happens, honestly.”

“I don’t want you _hurt,_ Haz!” The nickname came with a bone deep familiarity, but Louis couldn’t fathom why.

Harry didn’t even flinch. “I can look after myself, Lou. I’ve always had to.” They stared at each other for a long moment, neither willing to look away until Louis relented and went back to trying to start the elevator again.

He fiddled with the wires for a moment, trying to concentrate enough to find out the way they should be, but his brain was running a mile a minute. It was obvious that Harry was powerful, but the powers he had didn’t make any _sense_ , and there was no clear way to know yet where they’d come from. Louis grabbed the ends of two wires, twisted them together with his thumb until they were entwined, and just had to hope that he’d managed to guess right.

The elevator suddenly jerked and started moving again, and as soon as it stopped, they wordlessly linked hands again, and set off further into the building. While they knew it was on the fourth level, they had no idea exactly where, so Louis had resigned himself to the fact that they might have to walk a while. They found a couple of things along the way; a rocket launcher that Louis had to leave behind because it was too heavy, more money and a safe that Harry picked easily with his lockpick that had gold bars in it, and a code book that Harry had been reading eagerly since he’d found it hidden in a hollow column.

There was no one here either, all of the shops void of any life, and even Harry seemed to have lost some of the joy he’d been carrying around earlier. The building was too expansive to really hold any life when it was empty, just shop fronts and tall columns, tiled floors and a few boarded-up windows. Louis glanced across at Harry when he seemed to fidget with the book.

“You alright?”

Harry nodded jerkily, but then deflated slightly. “Yes, I just - I really need to pee.”

Louis snorted, slapping his hand across his mouth to try and hold it in, but he could see from the tiny smile on Harry’s face that he hadn’t _quite_ succeeded. He looked around for some kind of public restroom, and while he couldn’t find one, there was a bar just down on the left.

“Come on then, we’ll duck in there.” He nodded at the door. “I’m sure there’s a bathroom in here.” Louis went to push the door open, but it only opened halfway before it hit something on the inside and stopped. He wedged his head in the small gap with a grunt, looking down and to the right, and saw a man lying on the ground, arms twisted awkwardly in front of him.

It was the pool of blood underneath his head that made Louis pause.

He rammed harder into the door, grimacing when it made his shoulder ache, and then it gave way suddenly when the body rolled, and Louis fell through the door with Harry tumbling with him. His hand just narrowly missed the blood on the floor, and he quickly jumped to his feet.

“Sorry love, ‘m sorry, are you alright?” He reached down to help Harry up, running his hands lightly down his arms when he was standing.

Harry was just staring over Louis’ shoulder though, eyes wide in shock, so Louis turned to look at the room.

It wasn’t just the one man. There were dozens of bodies littering the floor, even more slumped over chairs and tables, sprawled in booths covered in blood. The words _‘DESTROY THE VOX_ ’ had been carefully painted on one of the walls, covering photos and posters; it was in red, but Louis hoped it was just paint. With the amount of carnage in here though, it may not have been.

“Fucking hell,” Louis hissed, and he pulled Harry behind his body as they shifted through the space, keeping him close just in case. He bent down to examine one of the bodies, still managing to keep Harry right near him. “It doesn’t even look like any of them had any _weapons_ on them. Whoever did this – they were cowards.”

“I think it was one of the Vox’s safe places.” Harry’s voice was quiet, and Louis felt a surge of protectiveness when he felt his fingers grip onto Louis’ belt loop. “From what I’ve read, they didn’t have many left around here.”

Louis moved slowly, careful not to jostle any of the bodies on the ground. “Hardly seems like a safe place for anyone to be.” There was a sign for the bathroom pointing down a small hallway, so Louis started leading Harry there. “I’ve heard bits and pieces about this Vox, but I don’t really know what they are.”

The bathroom, at least, seemed empty of anyone living or dead, and the only thing that Louis could see that was out of the ordinary were odd symbols painted on the wall. He carefully took Harry’s book from him to try and find them in there. Harry didn’t seem to notice the markings as he rushed into a stall, but he did keep talking to Louis.

“They’re the Vox Populi.” Harry’s voice echoed slightly in the tiled room. “It’s a Latin term, and its literal translation is ‘voice of the people’. They have safe spaces like this to hide from Comstock’s men as they try and bring them down. Sometimes it’s easier if they’re hidden in plain sight.”

Louis didn’t take his eyes off the odd markings, even as Harry came back and washed his hands. “They’re like rebels, then.”

“That’s a fairly apt comparison,” Harry mused, and then he was gasping right in Louis’ ear and making him jump. “The markings! Louis, they’re from the code book!” He snatched it back out of Louis’ hand and flipped through it. “It’s a _Vox_ code book, do you have idea how much more brilliant this is now?”

All Louis could do was wait as Harry found the right page, or the right chapter, but Harry’s excitement made something soft settle around him. He was gorgeous like this, eyes bright and smile deep, and Louis just knew, even in this cold bathroom with murdered men and women just outside the door, that Harry was it.

He was everything.

“I’ve got it, it says ‘tip your hat to the Vox’,” Harry frowned, flipping back through the book. “It must be another code.”

But Louis thought he might have already figured it out. He walked carefully up to the hat rack in the corner of the bathroom near the sink and tipped the top hat backwards until he heard a satisfying click. He heard Harry gasp behind him, as a section of the wall in front of Louis sank into itself and slid to the side.

It revealed a large nook, filled with guns that Louis already had, and ammunition that he quickly shoved into his bag. There were photos too, and what looked like letters, but Louis felt it’d be too intrusive to read them. The last thing he found was another audio diary, and he picked it up to show it to Harry.

“I saw some of these in the tower. It looked like you’d been making them, and I’ve come across a few of them,” Louis started, unsure, but Harry nodded at him kindly to go on. “I – do you make all of these? How did they find their way out here?”

Harry laughed, a soft little thing that made Louis smile, and then he reached out and took it from him carefully. “I started making them in the tower to try and get my thoughts out. I didn’t have anyone to talk to, or any outlet really.” He ran his hands over it carefully, playing with the needle that rested there. “I think I’d recorded about five of them when I woke up one morning and they were just all gone.” He laughed, but it was self-deprecating, and Louis couldn’t stop himself from reaching out to smooth out the crinkles between his eyebrows. Harry didn’t even look up, but he did smile. “All my innermost thoughts, just taken. I kept making them and they kept disappearing. I tried hiding them, but it seems silly now that I know they were watching me and probably just…saw where I put them.”

“How old were you when you made it?” Louis kept his voice low, and the anger at the men out of it.

“Seven.” Louis sucked in a sharp breath, but Harry pushed through it. “I think I’d been in the tower for a year or so at that point, and I couldn’t remember seeing anyone for the six months before that. Food just appeared in the kitchen, clothes just turned up, and my voxophones just kept disappearing.”

Louis was trying to keep calm, but his hands were trembling and his pulse thudding in his ears. Harry had been a literal _child_ when they’d left him there, a _toddler_ left to almost fend for himself. “Voxophones?”

Harry’s smile was sad as he turned the device over, running the tips of his fingers over the _Fink_ that was engraved into the metal back. “I didn’t have a name for them until I was about sixteen, almost 10 years ago. I’d just started reading about the Vox, and I just,” he sighed and ducked his head, “just hoped that wherever they were going, wherever the devices were disappearing to, that maybe they could help them somehow. It was stupid. They were just taking them to learn about me and mass produce them.” He pointed at the engraving. “Jeremiah Fink has a manufacturing plant, and he makes so much of what’s up here. Him and Comstock have some kind of deal, I think.”

Louis tucked a finger under Harry’s chin and tilted his head up until Harry’s eyes met his. “Not stupid at all,” he whispered, shifting closer. “Brilliant.”

Harry swallowed heavily, and Louis could feel his shaky breath. “They just want to reclaim the city. They just want to save it.” He was moving closer, and Louis wanted to kiss him so much it almost physically _hurt_ not to.

But they didn’t have time here, and there was no way he was letting their first kiss happen in a bathroom.

He shifted back and let his fingers trail along Harry’s jaw as he did so, trying to push down the guilt when Harry’s face dropped. “We have to keep going.”

Harry took a deep breath, avoiding Louis’ gaze. “Okay. We should listen to it first, though.”

It was a woman talking about the Vox, their mission and what they stood for, and a consistent mention of a ‘Daisy’ that Louis had no idea about. When the message was over, Harry put the Voxophone back in complete silence, the shift in the air heavy and suffocating, but Harry linked their fingers back together when they left the bar, and Louis felt lighter.

There was a sign further up now that pointed to Horan’s Electrics, but there was a combination of large exhibits to get through first, extravagant scenes that seemed to display parts of the Prophet’s life. They were studying a portrait of a woman, _‘Lady Comstock’_ if the memorial plaque underneath was anything to go by, and Louis recognised her as the woman he’d seen in the stained-glass windows at the Welcome Centre.

It seemed obvious now that it was Comstock’s wife, sitting with him in the window art and memorialised forever. There was a pool of water sitting around the large column that the painting was hung from, and candles dotted everywhere.

“Say what you want about her, she had good fashion sense,” Harry mused, and Louis laughed when he looked between them.

She was wearing all blue, almost the same colour as Harry, and had a white blouse underneath. Her hair was in a bun too, and the only real difference was that Lady Comstock was wearing a skirt.

“Harry, you’re basically wearing the same thing.”

“I said what I said.”

Louis snorted, pulling Harry along through to the next room. Candles filled this room too, but there were flowers everywhere and a statue of Lady Comstock holding a baby. The statue was tall and made of stone, and even in the stonework Louis could see that she was beautiful. Harry read the plaque underneath, murmuring quietly, and when he stepped back, he was chewing on his fingernail in thought. Louis shot him a quizzical look when he turned back to him.

“It’s just – this says ‘the Prophet’s heir’, but in all the books that I’ve read about him, there’s never any mention of a child.”

It wouldn’t have been an accident. There was just no way that Comstock, as arrogant as he was, would accidentally leave out such a big part of his life in the books written about him. Louis said as much to Harry, who just hummed and kept moving through the exhibit to the next one.

“It is odd. I can’t imagine why he would’ve kept it a secret, though. You’d almost think he’d make the city idolise the child, too.”

The swell of violins greeted them in the next room, but Louis hardly even noticed, because there was a large pool of water in here too, and a huge stone bridge built over it leading to an island. They were on the floor underneath it though, wading through the shallow water with no way to get up there. It wasn’t necessary though, just a piece of art to accompany the story now being told over the PA.

Harry was wandering around the room smelling the different flower bushes that were scattered, so Louis ducked under the bridge to get a better look at it from the other side. There was a statue of Comstock on the bridge, holding a bundle in his arms, his stance powerful and looking towards the island.

The plaque on the side spoke of Lady Comstock’s death at the hand of Daisy Fitzgerald, and Louis remembered the Daisy mentioned in the Voxophones from the bar.

“Harry, who’s Daisy Fitzroy? It says here that she killed Lady Comstock.” Louis ran his fingers over the plaque, the section that read _‘and the Prophet took his seed to a place of refuge’._

The gentle slosh of water got louder until Harry was standing behind him, resting his chin on Louis’ shoulder, nudging the side of his head gently. “She was the leader of the Vox.”

Louis’ eyebrows shot up, and he turned his head awkwardly to try and look at Harry. “And she killed Comstock’s wife?”

“Depends who you ask, to be honest. I’m not sure what to believe. It would’ve been easy enough to pin a murder on her to try and get her out of their hair.”

Louis made a noise of agreement, and then Harry was moving to read a different plaque that matched the words coming through the sound system. _And although they killed my beloved, they will not have my son. He will sit on a throne, and drown in flames the mountain of men._

It wasn’t until Louis looked at the island side that everything started to fall into place. _Oh God._ It made complete sense now, why the restrictions had been in place, why Comstock hadn’t mentioned his child in the books.

He didn’t want anyone to know what his child could do.

Louis looked frantically to Harry, trying to think of some way to distract him, but fate was against him, because Harry chose that exact moment to look up, and Louis just had to brace himself as he waited for realisation to hit.

“Oh, it’s my tower!” Harry smiled, pointing at the smaller replica of the gold angel that sat on the other side of the bridge.

Louis sucked in a breath as Harry’s face crinkled in confusion and he read the plaque about the Prophet taking his seed to a place of refuge. This was going to be awful, but there was nothing Louis could do but wait. Harry was glancing quickly between the plaque and the tower, looking at the statue of Comstock, and Louis knew it was all over when Harry’s eyes widened, and he trembled.

“That – that means that I – ,” Harry clapped his hand over his mouth, and Louis’ heart broke. “No, I can’t be, Louis, _please._ ”

Louis managed to reach him just as his legs gave out, catching him before his knees could crack into the stone underneath them. Harry just clung to him, and Louis could hear him sniffling where he was buried in the crook of Louis’ neck.

“I’m so sorry,” Louis whispered, pressing careful kisses to the top of Harry’s head. The _‘that you’re Comstock’s son’_ didn’t need to be said.

Harry’s hands were gripping Louis’ jacket tight as he shook. “He – he wants me to, what? Follow in his footsteps? No, I – this can’t be true, _please_ ,” Harry sobbed, and all Louis could do was hold him a little bit tighter.

“Darling,” Louis soothed, hoping it helped. “You don’t ever need to do anything that you don’t want to do. You’re _nothing_ like him, Harry. Absolutely nothing. Blood is just blood.”

They stood quietly for a moment while Harry cried into Louis’ neck until finally Harry seemed to shake himself, untangling himself from Louis’ arms. His eyes were red rimmed and puffy, his cheeks tear stained, but Louis just needed him to know that he was so much _more_ than fucking _Comstock’s_ son. The grateful look on Harry’s face said it all when Louis cupped his cheeks in his hand, wiping away the lingering tears with his thumbs.

Harry didn’t say anything, but he didn’t need to, and he nuzzled his face into Louis’ palm before stepping away and glaring at the plaque.

“I feel like one of the worst parts of this is that he keeps referring to me as his _seed_.”

Louis let out a surprised laugh, the sound echoing through the room, and when Harry smiled at him, Louis just tangled their fingers back together and moved to pull him away from this horrible revelation and into the next room. They moved straight through though when they realised it was showing Comstock’s revenge against the Vox, complete with graphic displays of burning bodies and Comstock brandishing a sword. Louis could hear the announcer talking about bringing wrath upon the Vox Populi and still pursuing them to this day, but he tugged Harry along until they reached a locked gate, one that Harry couldn’t open with his lockpick.

“It’s too complex,” Harry complained, sucking his bottom lip back in between his teeth. Louis fought the urge to pull it out gently. “I think it unlocks from the other side, which isn’t overly helpful.”

“I can try going over the top of it,” Louis suggested, looking for something to attach the skyhook to.

They were both looking, trying to find a way to get past, because they could _see_ the shop front over the wall, and just as Louis was about to give up and try to squeeze through the bars, the start of what looked like a _tear_ appeared, right at the top of the gate.

“Harry,” Louis whispered, watching in amazement at what Harry was capable of, but when he turned to look at him, Harry looked just as shocked. “Are you doing that?”

“I – I don’t know, it _has_ to be me. I don’t know if anyone else can even do this.” Harry was staring at it, and with what looked like the smallest twitch of his hand, the tear opened, and a grappling hook sat there, grey and white against the colour of the world. 

“Do you think it’s safe?” Louis asked, but his finger twitched on the skyhook, and he was flying up to it without meaning to, the skyhook connecting cleanly with the hook on the gate and swinging him over to drop safely on the ground.

He let out a whoop, laughing as he fist pumped the air, and he looked to the other side to see Harry just staring at the glitching image as it flashed a couple of times, and then vanished. Harry shifted his gaze to Louis’, and Louis had the glorious experience of getting to watch as the biggest smile he’d seen on Harry so far stretched across his face.

“Lou, I did it!” He yelled, and Louis couldn’t contain the hysteric laugh. “I can – I can create tears again.” Harry looked almost teary as Louis quickly unlocked the gate and pulled him through, into his arms. “I did it.”

Just as Louis was about to kiss him, full of pride and a feeling of _love_ that was impossible to ignore now, his hand flared with fire, hot and fierce, and Louis was pulling away with a frown. Harry whined lowly in protest, and Louis had to ignore the flash of heat that settled in his stomach at the sound.

“Sorry, trust me, but,” he stopped to look around, stilling when he saw a shadow move in the shop front, “we’re not alone.”

The next time he looked up, the shadow had vanished, but Louis rushed to the door anyway, bursting through it with his shotgun out. The shopfront was empty, filled with machines and electric parts, only one other door visible that looked to lead to a backroom. Louis was about to check out there, the only possible place that Horan could be, if it was him they’d seen, when he heard a _click,_ and turned to see Harry holding a Voxophone. The voice that came out of the device was Irish, strong and sure.

_“That fuckin’ Comstock scum. I’ll do anything to help the Vox now, and when we’ve won, the second this is over, I’ll be the first one to spit on his dead body.”_

“I was fuckin’ angry when I made that, ey?”

Louis whirled around, flame ready in his palm and shotgun cocked, but when he saw the man, recognition hit him hard, and he lowered everything.

“Niall?”

Niall grinned and stepped forward to wrap Louis in a tight hug that he barely returned, too in shock at the fact that he _remembered_ him. He hadn’t really been able to remember anything else from his past, but this man stood out as clear as day.

“How have you been, Tommo?” Niall clapped him on the back and picked up what looked like a toolkit, before gesturing back to the door they’d just come from. “Come on, I don’t have all day.”

Louis just stared at him. “I – I’ve been alright, considering. What the fuck are you _doing_ up here?” He followed after him in a slight daze as they started to move back through the building, Harry clutching tightly onto Louis’ hand.

Niall was whistling as he strolled along, checking around corners as they backtracked from where Louis and Harry had just come. “Ah, it’s a bit of a long story.” He briefly looked at Harry, and Louis tightened his hold. “Hey mate, ‘m Niall. Tommo and I did a couple a’ jobs together back on solid ground.” Harry introduced himself then, confusion clear in his voice, and Louis couldn’t blame him.

They were almost back outside when Louis finally realised that he needed to just _ask_. “Not that I don’t appreciate it, but how the fuck do you even know where we’re going, or what we need you for?”

Niall just laughed. “I’ve got my ways, mate. Always watching and all that shit.” They stopped back at the gondola controls, and Niall pulled out a couple of tools that Louis had never seen before. “I’ve known you were here since the raffle,” he continued, smirking at Louis as he cracked open the machine. “That was good stuff. ‘m proud of you.”

Louis still wasn’t exactly sure what was happening, but he never was one to look a gift horse in the mouth. He only had flashes of his memories with Niall; they were filled with guns and covert missions, trips to other countries and blood.

“Ah, thank you?”

Sparks flew from where Niall was crouched on the ground. “You’re welcome! You’ve left a fair bit of chaos behind you, huh?” There was a loud scraping sound, one last spark, and Niall was suddenly standing, toolkit back in hand as the gondola started to descend. “All done, Tommo. Well, I should be off, but if you need me, just ask.” He winked then, and just as quickly as he’d come, he was gone, jogging back towards the building, and Louis swore he just… _vanished._

Harry was the first to speak. “Um, what just happened?”

“I have no idea.” Louis was sick of saying it, sick of not understanding anything about the situation they were in, but he truly didn’t have another answer. “I vaguely remember him from before here, but I don’t know how he knew we needed him.”

The gondola arrived then, swinging slightly in the strong wind. Harry hummed. “I suppose it doesn’t really matter, does it?”

They boarded the gondola in silence, but Harry spoke again just as Louis started it, and it starting moving towards the airship.

“Why do you do it? All the killing.”

Louis sighed, turning back around to face Harry, leaning against the control panel. “I don’t really remember why I did it back on Earth, but up here,” he paused when the gondola swung dangerously, but it started to slowly inch up again, “up here, I do it to protect you. I have to.”

Harry seemed to ponder that for a moment, and then he swiftly changed the subject. Louis couldn’t help but be grateful.

“I used to see them as doors when I was younger, you know, the tears.”

“Where did you go?”

Harry smiled then, looking out at the city below them. “Everywhere, just whenever I had to get away. I didn’t understand it, and I still don’t, not really. I’ve read so many books on physics and chemistry to try and get answers, but,” he shrugged, “I never found any. The only thing I learnt is that there’s a big difference between what we can see, and simply what _is._ ”

And then the PA in the gondola crackled, and a familiar voice spoke over it. Comstock.

“ _As soon as he wants, my sweet Harry, he’s just going to leave you, and you’ll have to come crawling back to me.”_

He wouldn’t, _never_ , and Louis rushed forward to reassure him, but Harry was already shaking his head with a determined expression.

“No, he won’t.”

_“He’s a liar, and a killer, and he’ll just use you and spit you out.”_

Louis tried to find where the voice was coming from so that he could just shoot the fucking thing out, but it must’ve been hidden in the walls. “I won’t, Haz, you and me together, yeah?” He grabbed Harry’s hands.

“I know, Lou. You and me,” he whispered back, leaning forward to press their foreheads together. Louis squeezed his eyes shut as Harry raised his voice to address Comstock again. “I’m leaving, father, and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

_“We’ll see.”_

Suddenly and all at once, the gondola came to a halt at the top platform, Louis heard shouting, and his hand flared with fire.

He pulled out the machine gun, making sure it was loaded, and turned to look at Harry. “Stay in here, okay? Until I tell you it’s safe, just stay here.” Harry nodded quickly and sunk down to the floor to stay hidden.

Steeling himself for a fight, Louis walked straight out into the open station. There were three men coming down the stairs to his left, a machine gun turret directly in front of him, and another four men to his right. He pushed down the possession vigor until it sat in his palm and shot it straight at the turret, rolling behind a stack of boxes to avoid the bullets raining down on him from the left. He felt depleted then, and he swore when he realised he didn’t have the time to grab a bottle of salts from his bag. Firing from the hip in a short burst around the boxes, he risked poking his head out when he heard a cry. He watched as a man fell to the floor, struck in the stomach by one of Louis’ bullets, but there were still three of shooting at him, their return fire narrowly missing his head as he ducked back to avoid them. The others had turned their attention to the machine gun as soon as it had turned against them, which was a persistent thing judging by the still ongoing sounds, and the policemen were grouped around the base of it, shooting as much as they could.

A vigor right now would’ve been perfect, straight in the centre to hit all of them at once, but he’d given up on trying for his bag until he heard a whisper of his name. He looked up to see Harry, _out of the gondola_ and directly opposite him, crouched behind a flipped table.

“Harry what the _fuck_ , get back in there!” He hissed, quickly popping out of hiding to pull the trigger and take down another man. “What are you _doing?_ ”

“I’m helping, you wanker!”

Louis flinched as Harry threw something at him, but when he caught it on instinct, it was a bottle of salts.

“Where did you get _that_ from?” Louis quickly opened it, drinking it and revelling in the energy that it renewed in his blood.

Harry just grinned at him and shuffled to sit back against the wood. “There’s lots of things just sitting around. Let me help, Lou. Please.”

The sound of gunfire was still persistent around them, still close enough that they really shouldn’t be having this conversation, but Harry was pouting, and Louis didn’t think he’d ever say no to him.

“Okay, fine!” He stepped into the open, firing at two men until they fell, his other hand pushing out to send a fireball straight into the middle of the other group. “But if you get hurt, even _once,_ that’s the end, okay?” The screams of the men as they caught on fire shouldn’t have made him smirk as much as it did, even as the automatic turret got caught up in the fire and exploded.

“I promise,” Harry called back, and then he was concentrating somewhere to Louis’ left. “I’ve figured out how to perfect this, too!”

Louis tried to turn and look, see whatever had made Harry sound so pleased, but he’d forgotten about the one man that was left, and he heard a bullet as it whizzed past his ear, close enough that he could feel it. He spun back around to see the man moving towards him, a wild grin on his face, closing in just as Louis aimed, pointed his gun at the policeman’s stomach, and pulled the trigger.

There was a loud _click,_ and Louis’ stomach dropped. The magazine was empty.

Everything seemed to slow down, and Louis could see with terrifying clarity as the man drew his gun up and aimed straight at Louis’ head. It was too late to move out of the way, too late to really do anything, and the last thing he saw before he closed his eyes was Harry, frantic and with his hands thrown out.

Louis heard the gun fire and tensed himself for the pain, images of Harry flashing through his mind, and just hoping beyond anything that Harry would get out of here okay on his own.

But no pain came, at least for Louis. It was clear from the cry he heard that someone had been hurt, and he could hear the automatic firing of a gun, but when he wrenched his eyes open, expecting the worst, it was the policeman who he saw dead on the ground.

Harry was still standing, panting, but Louis’ gaze snapped to the turret that he was _sure_ had been destroyed earlier in the fight. It looked different now though, and Louis gasped when he realised it was glitching black and white; Harry had opened a _tear_.

“I did it,” Harry breathed, frozen, and Louis let out a shocked laugh. “I didn’t think it would _work_ but I did it, Lou.”

“Yeah, love. You did.”

Louis still didn’t understand how Harry’s powers worked, couldn’t comprehend how any of it was possible, but he didn’t need to understand to know that Harry was powerful, and everything he did was extraordinary. The thing that he did understand was that Harry looked happy, radiant and _so_ proud of himself, and that was all that Louis cared about.

Harry beamed at him, smile lighting up his entire face, and then he was grabbing Louis’ hand and tugging him towards the lift leading up to the airship. They were so close now, close enough to freedom that Louis could almost _taste_ it.

The second that the lift doors closed, Harry threw himself at Louis, wrapping his arms around his neck. Louis sighed, pushing his nose into the warmth of Harry’s neck and tugging him close, one arm around his waist and the other sliding up his back. Amongst this city of liars and killers, manipulation and darkness, Harry was the light that guided Louis back home, bright and strong.

When Louis pulled back, his eyes caught the poster in the lift, another proclaiming that _‘THE FALSE SHEPHERD SEEKS ONLY TO LEAD THE LAMB ASTRAY_ ’. Harry turned to look at it when he realised Louis’ focus had shifted.

“I guess you’re the false shepherd, then,” Harry murmured, but there was a grin on his face and a teasing lilt to his voice.

“And you’re the lamb.” Louis grinned back.

“Let’s not call each other that.”

“Agreed.”

The second that the lift stopped, Louis was on the move, jogging through and getting on the airship. He held the door for Harry, and, though he’d never flown one before, put in the coordinates for London on the dial above the wheel, rocking back on his heels with a sigh. They had to go back to London first so Louis could grab whatever they needed; clothes, money, any weapons he had, just in case.

Harry was almost bouncing off the walls of the small cabin, restless and excited, but he stepped up to Louis’ side just as the airship started moving. “I can’t believe we’re going to _Paris,_ Louis. I’ve dreamed about it so often, you know,” Harry said quietly, staring out the large front window. “It’s different than knowing I have to go through a tear. It’s _real_ this time, being away from here.” He turned back to Louis, softness written on his features, but as Louis watched, his features shifted into confusion. “Those are the coordinates for London, not for Paris.”

Louis blinked. “We have to go to London first.”

“Why? You said there was trouble in London, why would we go there?” He sounded suspicious now, and Louis had no idea what was happening.

“We won’t be there long enough for any trouble.” Louis’ brows furrowed in confusion, and then he was speaking like he was on autopilot, explaining something he didn’t actively remember. “It’s trouble for me, I just gambled a bit and lost a lot of money, and they wanted me to bring you to them instead, but - .” He cut off when Harry backed away from him, his face twisted in fear and _betrayal_ , and Louis couldn’t remember regretting saying anything quite so much before, wanting to grab the words from the air and suffocate them so they couldn’t hurt anymore. “Wait, no, Harry that’s – .”

“I – you’re handing me over to someone?” A flush was rising to Harry’s cheeks, and his hands were frantic. “This is what this _whole thing’s_ been about? Pretending that you _cared_ and,” Harry let out a strangled laugh, and all Louis seemed to be able to do was watch, frozen, as his world started to fall down. “I _trusted_ you, God! I thought – I thought you could feel it too, _please_.”

Louis’ entire body felt hot, and he felt like he didn’t know how to think, let alone manage to talk and explain that Harry had simply just cut off Louis mid sentence before he could explain that he’d rather die than lose Harry now. “ _Yes_ , that’s not – .”

Harry seemed to be too far gone now, trapped in the thoughts that Louis had mistakenly planted there, and he was getting louder, more erratic, and Louis didn’t know how to calm him down. He kept his distance when Harry turned away, anguish painted across his face, and when he turned back almost instantly, Louis noticed the small, bronze bust in his hand a beat too late. The last thing he could focus on before it smashed into the side of his head was the determined look on Harry’s face, before Louis was falling to the floor and everything went black.

He was drifting in and out, getting snippets as his body struggled to wake back up, and he had no way of knowing how much time passed between each one. Once, Harry was steering the ship confidently and everything was fuzzy when Louis tried to move his arm, his leg, _anything_ , but he was too sluggish still, and everything simply twitched, and he had no choice but to succumb to darkness again.

The next time his eyes fluttered open, fear shot through him because the door was open, and Harry was looking back at him with his bottom lip caught between his teeth. The wind was blowing the stray curls away from his face, and Louis could see tears rolling down his cheeks before he jumped out of the ship, away from Louis where he was trying to move on the floor, trying to call out, but his head still _hurt_ too much, and everything was cold and dark again the moment he closed his eyes.

The final time Louis woke up should’ve been the most jolting, the most terrifying, because he was being dangled from the steps of the airship, his body pressed hard into the wood and the air whipping around his face. His instincts seemed to be awake now, and as disoriented as he was, he kicked out at the same time he threw his elbow up, pleased when it made a satisfying _crack_ when it connected with someone’s nose.

It was too good to be true though, because the next moment there was someone straddling his chest and holding him down as his head dangled upside down. He managed to crane his neck up enough to get a quick look, but the person sitting on him, face determined, just pushed his head back down.

Louis groaned, trying to shift underneath them, but they held firm. “I don’t want a fight, I just need the ship.”

“There’s already a fight, Tomlinson.” There was a pressure against his neck, cool and sharp, and Louis was more frustrated by the fact that everyone seemed to know his name than the fact that there was a knife to his throat. “We just need to know which side you’re on.”

“I don’t even know who you are,” Louis struggled to get out, “but I’m sorry to say that if you’re on Comstock’s, we’re on different sides.” It was a risk to assume they weren’t, but Comstock certainly hadn’t seemed to have any women working for him, and especially not anyone of colour, and the person currently threatening him was both.

The knife loosened slightly, and Louis let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. He was starting to get dizzy with all the blood rushing to his head, and he took a deep breath to steady himself and closed his eyes.

“I’m Daisy, Daisy Fitzroy.”

_Oh. The Vox._

He opened his eyes again, tried to get glimpses of where he was, but he hardly knew this city, only knew the parts he’d been, and this area seemed almost industrial. For the first time since he’d met Harry, he felt like he didn’t have a chance.

 _Harry_. Harry had left the ship, and Louis had no idea where the fuck he’d gone, or how to find him. He struggled again, but Daisy stood this time, and he sat up.

“Harry, where’s Harry?” Louis’ head was still spinning slightly, but it was the only thing he cared about. “Please tell me where he is, I’ll do anything.”

There was the sound of heavy steps moving across the ship, and then Louis could feel a boot at his ribs; not kicking, not even applying too much pressure, just…there. “Good. We need weapons from Chen Lin, a gunsmith who’s a part of our cause.” The boot was slowly pressing forward now, and Louis could tell the airship was starting to lower. “His workshop’s in the centre of Fink Manufacturing, and none of us can get in there. If you get the guns, we’ll help you with the rest, and give you your ship back. Your boy’s here, too.”

Louis opened his mouth to agree, but they seemed to already know because all that came out was a cry as he was kicked from the ship and landed heavily on the ground. Whatever he’d landed on was _not_ forgiving, some kind of metal or concrete, and Louis groaned and rolled over to flop onto his stomach.

He let himself rest for a moment, and then ran his hands over himself to make sure he still had everything. His weapons were there, his bag still full of salts, coins, and ammo, and he still had some food and water that Harry had managed to find at some point. Louis pulled himself up until he was sitting, leaning against a huge wooden crate he’d landed next to, and greedily downed a bottle of water and some fruit.

What a giant _fuck-up._ The number of tiny things that had needed to happen to ruin everything in his last conversation with Harry had happened, and Louis wasn’t sure he’d ever experienced _such_ a misunderstanding. It was understandable that Harry was upset; maybe not that he’d knocked him out, Louis thought as he rubbed his head, but definitely that he was upset over the thought that Louis was using him when that was all anyone else in his life had ever done.

He just hadn’t let Louis _talk_ , and Louis had been too shocked to properly form sentences strong enough to just cut him off.

The most important thing now was finding Harry, and then getting the fuck out of here when he got that ship back.

Louis stood and stretched, wincing as his back popped, and tried to figure out where to go from here. He seemed to be in the grounds of a factory of some kind, and there were shipping containers and crates everywhere, none of them properly marked. From where he stood, he could see a warehouse that looked like it ran through to inside the factory, which was guarded by an automatic turret that Louis dismissed easily, knowing it wouldn’t be a fight unless he made it one.

Because whatever this place was, it was _heavily_ guarded. There were guards slowly patrolling every walkway, and Louis knew he’d need to be quiet. He made his way to the door, ducking behind anything on the way to hide, narrowly avoiding one of the guards that’d been hidden by a crate, only stopping briefly to send a bolt of electricity at the turret. The last thing he wanted to do was use his possession vigor and accidentally have it turn on everyone; he needed to stay out of the spotlight here for as long as possible. He waited to make sure the turret had short circuited, before jogging to the heavy metal door and sliding inside.

It was expansive inside, long and filled with stock of some kind, high walkways and twisting paths. There was a sign right in front of him though; _Fink Manufacturing._

That wasn’t what caught his attention though. It was the pulse that suddenly flooded his system, the one that somehow told him that Harry was _here_ , in this warehouse, and he hardly had to wait a few seconds before he saw him, standing on one of the walkways and chewing his thumbnail.

_Thank God._

“Harry!” Louis called, but he was already running to the steps leading up to where Harry was.

Maybe in hindsight, he should’ve waited until he’d gotten closer, because the moment Harry turned to look at him, he was taking off at a run. Louis swore and quickened his pace, running through the maze of metal and steam, the sound of large machinery overwhelming.

“Wait, stop! Harry, please!” He could only see him every few seconds as he followed him, and Harry was darting around corners and down a small hallway.

“Stay away, leave me alone!”

Louis was running past open crates of ammunition and guns, weaving through boxes of vigors and salts that heLouis ignored because slowing down was the worst thing he could do right now. Harry was fast for someone who’d spent so many years in a tower. “Fuck, Harry please, I just want to talk to you! I’d never – .”

Suddenly, there was a shimmering in front of him, a _tear,_ even as Harry kept running, and it opened just in time for oil to leak from the glitched black and white barrel within it. Louis couldn’t stop himself from hitting the slick, but he managed to stay upright and slide through it just as it flickered and vanished. As frustrated as he was, at himself and at how stubborn Harry was being, there was a strong sense of pride that hit him at how much Harry’s powers had developed in the short time he’d known him.

He kept running, determined to catch Harry, crashing through a door and huffing out a breath when he saw Harry standing still at the end of the hallway.

“Please, I need to keep you _safe,_ ” Louis panted, slowing to a walk now as he carefully approached him.

Harry looked overwhelmed, green eyes wide and fists clenched as he scoffed at Louis. “That’s ironic! I’m not going with you, Louis.”

“Let me explain love, please.” Louis wasn’t above begging, but then Harry was opening a tear behind himself without even looking. “Don’t go in there, please stay here and talk to me.”

“I don’t need you.”

Harry stepped backwards just as the tear turned to colour, and as the image became clearer, Louis tried to race forward in time to stop him.

He was too late.

There were two armed guards just on the other side of the tear with their backs to it, and Harry was about to bump straight into them as he moved with his eyes still on Louis.

“Haz, _Harry,_ NO!” Louis knew he was almost screaming, but it didn’t make any difference.

He could only watch in horror as he stepped straight in between the guards and they noticed him. They grabbed him straight away of course, rough and triumphant, and Harry was struggling, but they were so much bigger than him, Louis knew he never had a hope of escaping.

“Let me go!” Harry’s eyes shot back to Louis, fear obvious as Louis raced towards him. “Lou!”

The tear quivered and then snapped shut, and Louis ran straight into the wall behind it. It hurt, but that wasn’t important right now. Instead he looked around frantically, but there was no way of knowing where that tear had even gone. He could _feel_ that Harry was still close though, at least on the factory grounds; so there _had_ to be another way.

The PA in the factory crackled, and Louis took off in a sprint, no idea where he was really going, lungs already burning but not willing to slow down.

_“More troops are coming to assist with collecting the boy from the cells shortly.”_

Fuck.

Louis ran up a set of stairs to another building and down a long hallway. The building was like a _maze_ though, and he ran aimlessly until he found a sign pointing to the cells that the announcement had mentioned.

So, he set course in that direction, determined to run until he found them, ducking outside for a moment to cross a road, not stopping until he could hear Harry’s voice.

“Please, let me go!” His voice was strong enough, but Louis could hear the slight tremble.

“Comstock wants you, and he’s gonna get you,” came the gruff reply, and Louis’ hand flared, bigger than before, anger, at anyone touching Harry, making him feel _more_.

Louis realised too late that he was in a police station, when he slid in through the doors and came face to face with three policemen. He was lucky enough that he’d caught them off guard though, and a quick vigor took care of them easily. He’d been too distracted to really pay attention to which one he was using though, and it was with a gruesome fascination that he watched a murder of crows appear from nowhere and pick them apart.

When the birds cleared, Harry was standing up against a wall, cowering slightly, and Louis had to hold back a sob.

“Harry, fucking hell Haz.” He could hear the emotion in his own voice and saw when it registered on Harry’s face. He opened his arms, desperate to touch him but not willing to unless it was Harry’s choice. Harry didn’t move, and Louis’ arms fell. “I’ve made an agreement to get the ship back.”

He seemed to strengthen at that, and crossed his arms over his chest. “Oh really? How? More lies?”

Louis was already shaking his head. “No, not to you. Never to you. I just have to,” Louis took a deep breath, and tried to grin, “arm an entire army for a potential uprising?”

“From where?!”

“A man in this building, Chen Lin, please,” Louis finished in a whisper, and he let out a relieved breath when Harry nodded sharply. “Thank God. Now, Harry please listen to me, you didn’t let me finish before, I’ll never let anyone – .”

But Harry cut him off. “If this is going to work, if either of us are getting out of here, we’re not talking about it.”

Louis gaped at him. “But – .”

“No buts. You’re a means to an end, Louis. Nothing else to me now.”

He could see the tremble in Harry’s body when he said it, heard the despair in the way his voice cracked, but it didn’t matter what Harry said and how it affected Louis. The only thing that mattered now was keeping Harry safe. Louis flinched when Harry pushed straight past him, but he followed him, heading to the only section of the factory that they hadn’t been yet.

They were silent for the longest time as they moved, quick and sure, keeping an eye out for any guards now that they must be on high alert. It was Harry who broke the silence, much to Louis’ surprise.

“Who are you working with?”

“Daisy.”

Harry’s head snapped to look at Louis in surprise. “Daisy Fitzroy? You’re working with Daisy Fitzroy?”

Louis nodded as he held open a door for Harry, and they stepped outside into a large courtyard. There was a clock tower in the centre, the buildings surrounding it separated like shopfronts, but the clock didn’t have numbers; it had _jobs_ , almost, like ‘work the forge’, ‘unload the shipment’, and even ‘eat’ and ‘sleep’. There was another large gold statue here in the corner of the space, of Fink, with a monocle and trimmed beard, the image not fitting at all with the factory here.

He was probably rich enough that it didn’t matter. 

“Kind of. It was more of a threat than a thriving business partnership,” Louis said wryly, following Harry as he peered at the names of what seemed to be workshops.

“She killed my mother, you know.”

Harry didn’t sound upset or angry, just matter of fact, but Louis still startled at the mention of Lady Comstock, and the almost easy acceptance now of who his parents were.

“I hear that it depends who you ask.”

It wasn’t a complete win, but the small twitch of Harry’s lips still felt like _something_ , and the way he wordlessly handed Louis the Voxophone he’d just found made him feel more _whole_. Louis turned it on, and they listened as they tried to keep an eye out for Lin’s workshop.

_“Fink here. I wasn’t sure what to think when Comstock came to me, lookin’ for help, but the amount of silver he shoved at me meant I didn’t care. Now, I don’t believe in this ‘prophet’ bullshit, but the city needs me, and that’s all I care about. It always helps when there’s a big, juicy secret I get to keep as well. He’d be ruined if anyone found out, and I’ve always loved havin’ leverage.”_

As soon as it clicked off, Louis placed it on a box that they were moving past. “What does he make here?”

Harry snorted, looking carefully through a window into a building. “Everything. Guns, salts, vigors, any of the machinery used by the police force. My Voxophones.” Harry looked around for a second, and then took off around a corner of the clock tower. “I’ve done a lot for this city. They just don’t know it.”

It wasn’t until he was properly behind Harry that he noticed that his blouse was ripped at the back of his arm, and he was bleeding. Louis pushed down the fury that came with the fact that someone had roughed him up, and gently grabbed his wrist to stop him. He didn’t pull away, just stopped to look at Louis curiously, and Louis carefully ran his finger over the skin above the cut.

“Let me clean you up,” he said softly, and Harry only hesitated for a moment before he nodded and sat down on a nearby step.

Louis sat next to him, Harry’s back to him, and managed to stop himself from kissing the nape of his neck. They were quiet as Louis worked, pulling out the first aid kit and cleaning the wound. It wasn’t deep enough to need stitches, but as soon as he’d wrapped a bandage around it, he was talking before he could stop himself.

“I was never going to hand you in, Harry.” He felt him tense, but he pushed on because there was no way they weren’t talking about it. “I live in London, and we only needed to go back there so I could get supplies and take care of a couple of things, I _swear_. I’m never going to hurt you.” Harry twisted to face him now, their knees knocking together, and Louis felt bolder. “I just – I can feel it, that I’m supposed to be here, meant to be here with _you_. I don’t know why, but I know that it’s true.”

Louis held his breath until Harry’s hand came up to thread gently through Louis’ hair, shaky but sure somehow. Harry shifted closer, and Louis couldn’t keep from touching him anymore, his hands coming up to cup Harry’s face as he closed his eyes against the sudden sting of tears that gathered.

“I can feel it too,” Harry whispered, and then he was tilting his head forward to catch Louis’ lips with his own.

He almost cried from relief as his hands tightened on Harry’s face, but he kept the kiss soft and chaste, a long press of lips that still burnt Louis all the way from his toes to the top of his head. Harry’s lips were soft, his grip on Louis’ hair firm, and Louis had to force himself back before he got carried away, pressing gentle kisses to Harry’s lips, and then his cheeks and eyelids. Harry was smiling, a small private grin, keeping Louis close as his hand slid down to press firmly against the back of his neck.

“I don’t know what it is either,” Harry admitted, and Louis let one of his hands fall to settle into the dip of Harry’s waist, “and I don’t know if I can fully trust you yet.”

Despite the way Louis’ heart clenched at the words, he was determined. “Let me fix this. I’ve got you, okay? I’ve got you.”

Harry’s voice was barely above a whisper, but Louis knew he would’ve heard it no matter what. “Okay.”

They sat there for a moment, pressed close and breathing each other in until they had to move on, but when they stood, Harry turned around with a bark of laughter, and pointed to the shop they’d stopped in front of.

_CHEN LIN_

_GUNSMITH_

That was convenient.

It was quiet when they went in and went through to the back, walking past a desk with Vox posters and what looked like research of some kind. Louis ignored it, bigger things on his mind, but Harry made a happy noise and picked up one of the books that sat there, flipping through it as they started up a set of metal stairs. Louis was going to leave him be, but the loud gasp he made halfway up made him spin around and check on him. He looked shocked, his face pale and Louis reached out carefully to run his hand down his arm.

“What is it, love?”

“It’s – it’s my mother’s _diary_. They must have taken it when she died,” Harry whispered, but his face just grew more ashen as he read on.

Louis stepped closer, pressing their bodies together and hoping it was enough to comfort him. “What does it say? Haz, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Harry’s face twisted, and his bottom lip trembled. “She – it says she didn’t want me.” Impossible. Louis couldn’t imagine anyone ever not wanting Harry in their life. He made to tell him so, but Harry started reading a quote from the diary. “‘I am not a fool. This bastard shall not be raised under my roof’. It was her, Louis. _She_ put me in that tower. Everything’s been a _lie._ ”

Louis could only wrap his arms around Harry as he shook, not crying but just in shock, and when Harry made no effort to move, he slipped the book from Harry’s hand. “My life is infinitely better with you in it.” When Harry shifted closer still, a soft sigh leaving his lips, Louis pressed his lips to Harry’s temple. “Do you want to keep this?”

“Might come in handy,” was the muffled response, and Louis felt a kiss against the side of his neck as he shoved the diary in his bag.

They separated just enough to entwine their fingers, and then they kept moving up the stairs, passing a landing with some kind of religious display. There was a small statue sitting on a box, along with some flowers and hangings, but Louis didn’t have time to stop. He listened though as Harry distracted himself by telling Louis that the statue was of Gautama Buddha, the founder of Buddhism.

“I can’t imagine Comstock being very happy about people worshipping anyone but him,” Louis said wryly, but then they came up to the top floor and both froze.

The place had been ransacked, ruined equipment and half made guns strewn all over the floor. There were papers thrown all over the room, and Lin was most definitely not here. Louis tried to find a clue in the space, anything that would lead him to where to go next, but the only thing he managed to find was a small pool of blood on the floor. He had absolutely no idea how to find him now, or where they would’ve taken him and why, but he stopped when he noticed a piece of paper with a bloody fingerprint on it, as if it’d been grabbed after Lin had been hurt.

He picked it up from the floor, turned it over, and the words hurriedly scrawled there made him realise that it was possible he’d made a huge mistake. His palms were suddenly clammy.

_Daisy did this. Shantytown._

A solid warmth was up against his back now, and Harry’s arm came to settle across his stomach. “I thought you were working with Daisy here.”

Louis laughed, but it was choked, and he leaned back against Harry’s chest. “So did I.”

“I saw a sign for something called Shantytown when we were looking around, and,” Harry hesitated, but he went on when Louis took his hand and lifted it to press a kiss to the back, “I want to try something. When I went through the tear and got caught by those guards, I didn’t go to another universe like I usually would. I think I can make it so we can use them as portals to other places in the same universe now as well.”

He was so brilliant, and Louis had never felt more in love. “Seriously?”

Harry grinned down at him, and Louis could feel his fingers twitching against the small of his back before a gust of wind from somewhere gently messed up his hair. “I think so. I didn’t know I could even do it, but with you here,” Harry ducked down quickly to kiss Louis, hard and fast, and Louis felt himself go a touch pliant, “I feel like I can do anything. I’ve already done it once today, so what do you say? We’ll try it?”

The tear was just settling into its colours now, the outline strengthening and rounding out, and Louis could make out a cobbled street, fire barrels littering the gutters and cardboard shelters tucked into doorways.

“Yeah. I trust you.” Louis shot him a sideways grin, pleased when Harry returned it, and then they stepped into the tear together.

It didn’t feel like anything as Louis stepped through it, no dizziness or jolts like he’d expected, it was simply that one second he was in Lin’s workshop, and the next he was standing in the middle of a dirty street, dark and overcast and lit only by flickering street lamps.

Louis didn’t know exactly what this part of the city was, but there was such a stark contrast to what Louis now realised had been the areas owned by the rich that he’d already seen. Instead of the white buildings, tall columns, and opulent fabrics, Shantytown was all dark brick and dirty fabrics, and Louis felt a stab of sadness in his stomach at the thought that anyone had to put up with this when they knew what the rich were holding back. It only took one overheard conversation as they started down the street for Louis to pick up on the fact that it was apparently Fink who had done this, Fink who had destroyed their homes to build and expand his factory, and sent them down below the city where they had to rebuild their entire lives.

Harry was gripping his hand so tightly it was starting to hurt when they walked past a group fighting for food. “Fink did this?”

“I think so,” Louis murmured back, careful not to draw attention to them as they walked past a preacher standing on a soap box and addressing a small crowd.

“ – because they’re keeping you hungry so that you do not have the energy to fight. They are keeping you hungry so that the only energy you have is to beg!”

There were cardboard signs, dozens of them; _‘hungry, need food’, ‘thou hast forsaken us’,_ and _‘daughter sick, need doctor_ ’. It was here that Harry tugged Louis to a stop and knelt to talk to a woman and her small daughter. Louis hung back to make sure they were safe until Harry asked for one of the first aid kits in Louis’ bag, and he stepped closer to give it to him.

It looked like a small infection of some kind, and Harry chatted to them quietly as he worked with a soft smile on his face. He was gentle and kind, obviously trying not to frighten them, and when it was all fixed and they were walking away, Louis had to stop and kiss him in an alcove before he lost his mind.

He pressed Harry against the wall, firm but still careful, groaning when Harry tugged at his hair and nipped at his lip. It was hot and slightly desperate as Louis greedily ran his hands down Harry’s sides, but an alarm sounding nearby made them break apart, and they panted into each other’s mouth, hands holding tight. Louis kissed the corner of his mouth, and then pulled him back out onto the street to follow the alarm.

They hurried more now, darting through throngs of people, and when Harry threw his hand back to open a tear _filled_ with dozens of huge boxes and bags of food, vegetables and meat and everything he could think of, Louis’ heart swelled and he had to look over his shoulder to hiss at him.

“I swear to God Harry, if you don’t stop being such a brilliant person, we’re never going to get anywhere because all I want to do is snog you senseless.”

Harry looked slightly confused, but the twinkle in his eye and shy smile said everything until they jogged past a poster as a crowd was coming into view. Louis would’ve hurried Harry past it if he’d known, but the words _‘Seed? Lamb? Whatever you call him, we DON’T NEED HIM’_ stood out in bright red against the black paper.

“It’s true though, Lou. How am I supposed to help any of these people?”

Louis just stared at him and cupped his face in his hands. “Harry, we’ve been here for five minutes and you’ve fixed a little girl’s leg and provided enough food for months. You might not be able to help them exactly the way that they need it in every way, but you’re so _good_ , Harry.”

The roar of a crowd nearby nearly drowned him out though, and when they rounded the corner, Louis flung his arm back to stop Harry.

“Stay back, darling. This is gonna be difficult.”

Louis tried to look at his options, but the only way to get into the compound was through the policemen gathered out the front, and there was only one way to get rid of them.

It was a strong Devil’s Kiss vigor that downed most of them, easy enough to hit them from far away to watch them burn to death as Louis figured out the next best thing. There were only three left, looking around at their colleagues in shock, and Louis took easy advantage of it to draw his revolver and fire three shots. Two of them were perfect, one in the man’s neck and another in the other’s temple, but the third man turned quickly and shot straight back.

A black and white glitchy pile of crates appeared in front of him, and Louis flinched slightly until they settled into colour, and the policeman’s bullets hit the wood and stopped. Louis turned to find Harry, sending him a thumbs up and a ‘Thank you, love!” that got him a wink and an air kiss. Louis laughed, stepping around the crates and firing once more, watching as the man fell.

As soon as they’d made it into the building, ignoring the low alarm and the sign that said everyone had to submit to a search, they followed the signs to the cells. There were interview rooms along the way, one covered in blood and containing a Voxophone that Louis grabbed, and seemingly no policemen in the entire compound.

Louis wasn’t complaining.

They let the Voxophone play as they walked through corridors, and Harry unlocked the door to the cells with his lockpick. It was clear that it was Daisy’s voice playing as they passed by ‘Wanted’ posters for her.

_“Lady Comstock and the Prophet used to fight every night, and I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but she always ended up screaming at him. One night, it just stopped, and I figured I should go and check on her. She was lying there, completely still and covered in blood, and I was shocked. I was stupid. I lingered. Maid was what they called me when I went in, and murderer was what they called me when they chased me out.”_

It wasn’t really something Louis didn’t already know; thousands of people thought that Daisy had killed Lady Comstock. It didn’t particularly come as a surprise either that the Comstocks fought. A man like that was sure to have demons of some kind.

Louis’ focus shifted when he noticed Harry had stopped in front of a large, open room filled with machinery, and Chen Lin’s name on it.

“It looks like his tools and parts of his machines from the workshop,” Harry mused, but he stepped away from the door. “The workshop did seem a bit empty.”

The main problem that Louis could see with it now was that it was massive, all locked together, and there was no way they’d be able to get it back to Lin’s workshop, even after they found him. Louis had no idea how’d they’d get the guns now, but their only option was to find Lin, and figure it out from there.

They rounded the final corner to the cells, a chart telling him that Lin was in cell nine, but a shout from the end of the cell room had Louis whipping around just as his hand flared. The man was big, and coming at them first, but Louis would have just enough time to kill him before he got there. He grabbed his revolver and pulled the trigger, but nothing happened.

It was jammed.

Panic filled every fibre of his body, because the man wasn’t going for him; he was going for _Harry_. Louis threw the gun down, grabbed the shotgun off his back, and fired just as the man reached out for Harry. Blood sprayed across the room as his body fell forward, and Louis just managed to reach and pull Harry out of the way from where he stood frozen in fear.

Louis ran frantic but gentle hands over him, sweeping up his neck and then down over his back. “I’m so sorry, are you okay? Fuck, ‘m so sorry.”

“I’m okay, I just want to get out of here,” Harry whispered, and with a sharp nod, Louis went in search of cell nine.

It was an odd thing, to know so clearly that he was in love with Harry when he’d known him for less than a day, that Louis would give up everything for him; he only needed to ask. It’d snuck up on him, only making itself known when Louis couldn’t do anything to stop it.

He gave Harry some space as he picked the lock for the cell at the end of the hall, and just let himself watch. Louis had never really had a type before, at least not one he could remember. It was strange, the way that bits and pieces of his life below kept coming back to him, but even still, he never thought he’d met, or been with, anyone like Harry before. He didn’t even think he’d ever been with anyone, had just been waiting for the right person. 

There had only ever been one person for him, and right now, he was beautiful, crouching in front of Louis, breaking them into a cell in a police station so they could rescue a prisoner and get firearms.

Regardless of what he knew of his life before this, he knew that there was no way that he’d ever been happier.

The cell door swung open and Harry went through before Louis could stop him.

“It’s not a cell, Lou, it’s a stairwell! It goes down for ages!” Harry was peering over the side, hands on the railing, and Louis couldn’t resist pressing a gentle kiss to his shoulder as they started the descent.

The closer they got to the bottom, the more that Louis could _feel_ something was wrong, and when the end of the hallway at the last step was nothing but black, Louis tried to make Harry wait in the light. It shouldn’t have been a surprise that he refused.

“Harry please, wait back there, I don’t want you coming in here.” Louis could feel the way the floor had shifted to tiles under his feet, and the smell of blood flooded his nostrils.

“No.”

Louis could barely make out a lightswitch to his left, and he reached out for it. “Haz, please.”

But he was stubborn. “If you’re here, then I’m here.”

Right, then. When the light came on, almost blinding, it was exactly what Louis thought. He heard Harry gasp, and even Louis felt sick.

Chen Lin was tied to a chair in the middle of the room, covered in blood, face swollen and cut open. He was limp, most definitely dead judging by the amount of blood underneath him on the floor and splattered on the walls, and Louis could see burns and welts from where they’d tortured him. There was no way to know if they’d gotten what they’d wanted, but Louis could hardly think through the frustration building inside him.

“God fucking _damn it_! Fuck, fuck, _fuck_.” Louis took a deep breath, but it didn’t really help, and he gripped at his own hair to stop from punching the wall. “We’ll have to find someone else to make the guns, _fuck_.”

Harry spoke then, but it was shaky. “No.”

Louis scoffed, and then instantly regretted it. “Harry, I’m sorry, but there’s nothing we can do for him. Dead is _dead_ and – .”

“Dead is dead, you say?”

Louis was reaching for his gun as soon as the voice spoke, when it was obvious that it wasn’t Harry, but recognition of a different kind sunk into his brain, and he froze. Surely fucking not, not down here, not now. Louis clenched and unclenched his fists, turned back towards the door of the room, and almost screamed.

He asked through gritted teeth, instead. “How did you _get here_?”

They both ignored him though, and it was Harry who spoke. “You both look familiar.”’

Louis moved to stand with him, slightly in front just in case. “They gave you your bird pin, love.”

Harry frowned though, and Louis looked closer at them and saw that Stubble was holding a coin up in between them, and the two of them were examining it. Louis could only see the edge of it, so it looked like a thin piece of metal, and the men were looking at either side of it. “No, it’s not just that. There’s something else, too, but I can’t put my finger on it.”

It was Cheekbones that interrupted, and Louis had to prepare himself, _once again_ , for their bullshit rapid-fire conversations that excluded everyone else in the room.

“I see…heads!”

“And I see tails, but that’s okay darling.”

“It’s all a matter of perspective, I suppose.”

Harry was watching curiously, but Louis stepped forward. “Why are you following us? Did Comstock send you?”

Stubble simply continued like he hadn’t spoken. Fucking _typical_.

“What do you see here, from this angle?”

“Dead – .”

Louis groaned. “Listen, we don’t have time – .”

“And that angle?”

“Alive! How odd.”

Louis was happily pulled away from their ‘conversation’ by Harry tugging on his sleeve.

“Louis, Louis!”

He opened his mouth to ask what, but the answer was already there; a tear, right where Lin’s body had been, except it wasn’t there now, and the glitching image had no sign of any struggle at all.

“It’s a different Columbia, Louis. It’s been there this whole time, a different Columbia _._ ”

Louis was trying to concentrate, to figure out what Harry was saying, because this wasn’t disappearing to another side of the city, and it wasn’t pulling something back through, because there wasn’t anything to _pull_ through.

“Heads.”

“Tails.”

“Dead.”

“Alive.”

He turned around to tell them off and get them to just _shut up_ , but it clicked as he looked at them. They were trying to tell him to look from a different perspective.

In the other Columbia, in the alternate universe, Lin was alive.

Harry had already figured it out. “We have to go through, but it’s been such a long time since I’ve gone completely through a tear to another reality. I don’t know if I remember how.”

It was one of the only times that Louis was grateful for the odd couple interrupting.

“It’s like riding a bicycle.”

“One never really forgets, even if they think they have.”

“One just needs the courage to take the first step.”

Then they were just gone, vanished in front of Louis’ eyes from one blink to the next. “What the fuck?”

Harry was chewing on his thumbnail, and Louis stepped up to him, and gently pulled it out of his mouth to kiss it. “Come on. Let’s go.”

“If we go into this tear Louis, it’s different. I don’t think I can bring us back,” he was looking at Louis with glistening eyes. “Are you sure?”

Louis kissed him firmly, wiping away the tear that had tracked down Harry’s cheek. “I’m sure.”

And just like that, Harry opened the tear completely, waited until it shimmered in colour, and pulled Louis through just as he closed his eyes. When he opened them, he wasn’t sure he’d ever be the same again.

Lin’s body was gone, and so was the chair and all the blood. The room almost looked like a storage room now, filled with random boxes of decorations and fireworks. They rushed up the stairs, past the now empty room where Lin’s tools had been; it all seemed to be back at his workshop in this universe.

They couldn’t waste any more time, and it was when they got back into the cell room that Louis noticed that the cells were all empty. He tucked Harry behind him. “I want you to stay behind, okay? I doubt this is the only thing that’s different.”

The building was shaking, hard enough that dust was falling from the ceiling, and Louis almost fell backwards when he noticed a person standing where he’d killed the man earlier, but their outline was shaky, their whole body almost glitching. It wasn’t until they got closer that Louis realised with increasing horror, that it _was_ the same person, and not only was he screaming, the sound echoing eerily through the space and surrounding them, his nose was bleeding.

“Louis,” Harry’s voice was shaky, terrified, and Louis found that he could relate. “I – I think he remembers being dead.”

Harry was right; the man was still covered in blood, but he was shimmering like one of Harry’s tears, and standing still, swaying back and forth, like the change in the reality had somehow caught him between life and death.

“This is fucked,” Louis whispered as he edged around him, “but we have to keep going Haz, come on.”

It wasn’t until they were back outside that Harry said almost exactly what Louis had been thinking, because the policemen they’d killed earlier were out here too, swaying where they stood with bloody noses, flickering.

“I don’t like this. I think maybe the tear was a bad idea.”

Louis tried to breathe, but there were members of the Vox everywhere, cheering in the streets and shooting policemen point blank. “We’ll fix it, okay? We’ll be okay.” He turned to wrap an arm around Harry’s waist, and pull him into his chest. “Haz we don’t need to get caught up here. It’s too dangerous, I’ve put you in too much danger already.” Their noses rubbed together, soft and sweet despite the gunfight happening around them as Louis ended on a whisper. “Just want you to be safe.”

It was easy to set his mind to the task of keeping Harry safe until they got back to Lin’s, every bump from a stranger setting him on edge, but it meant that he wasn’t prepared for someone grabbing _him_ by the wrist, and turning him to face them.

“You’re – you’re Louis Tomlinson! Hero of the Vox!” The woman looked ecstatic, and slightly drunk.

Louis just gaped at her. “ _What?_ ”

He had nothing to do with the Vox, not really; supplying guns to them for his own gain hardly seemed hero worthy. There was a gasp from behind him though, and he followed Harry’s line of sight when he checked on him.

Posters littered the wall, covering it completely, and they were all of Louis, red background with his first raised in air. He swore when he saw the words written there.

_Louis ‘Tommo’ Tomlinson_

_Martyr of the Revolution!_

Shit.

He felt woozy all of a sudden as memories tried to flood his brain. They were being stopped by something though, his world spinning, and then his vision glitched black and white and he felt Harry’s hands under his arms, holding him up.

“I – I remember, Horan and I, we,” Louis slurred, and everything spun as his vision blurred, “we burned down the Hall of Heroes, we – .”

One of Harry’s hands was suddenly swiping gently at his face. “Louis.” Harry sounded urgent and soft somehow, and Louis just loved him so much. “Louis, your nose. It’s – it’s bleeding.”

“It’s hard, Haz. ‘slike I’ve got two memories of the same place.” His vision was starting to colour again though, and he felt stronger again when Harry swore, and took his head in his hands.

“Louis, come back to me.” There were strong thumbs stroking over his temples and cheeks, his forehead and nose. “Come back to me, you’re here with me now, okay?”

Everything snapped in at once, Harry’s green eyes the perfect shade again. Louis blinked rapidly to try and concentrate, and he reached up to grab Harry’s wrists and press their foreheads together. “Yeah, yeah I’m here.”

Harry sighed in what sounded like relief. “Good. Now, we’re going to get the guns from Lin’s, find Daisy - .”

“ – and then we’re getting on Comstock’s ship and getting out of here.”

“Yes.”

Louis didn’t think before he surged up on his toes and slammed their lips together, warmth and something that felt remarkably like strength flooding his veins when Harry moaned. He used the opportunity to tangle his fingers in Harry’s hair and slip his tongue in his mouth, exploring his mouth when Harry gripped his waist tight enough to bruise.

They pulled away panting just as Daisy spoke over a PA system.

_“Louis Tomlinson died for this cause, for this day! And now it’s Fink’s turn! His time is up, in front of his own clocktower. FOR LOUIS TOMLINSON!”_

Chants of ‘Tommo, Tommo, Tommo’ started to swell around them, but Louis almost didn’t even hear them.

“Harry. They just said I _died_. Harry, I’m _dead_ in this universe.” They stared at each other in shock just as a group nearby turned on a Voxophone, and Louis snapped to attention when he heard his own voice. The group was shushing each other, smiles wide and wicked.

_“It wasn’t supposed to be hard. ‘Bring us the boy, wipe away the debt’, but that damn tower was empty when I got here. Damn Comstock heard I was coming and moved him, but I’ll get my revenge on him either way.”_

The thought of the telegram that Louis still had in his pocket flew back into his brain with startling clarity; _Do not alert Comstock to your presence STOP._

Louis didn’t realise he was hyperventilating until Harry opened a tear from nowhere and half carried him through it and lifted him, and he found himself sitting on a bench with his head between his own knees, Harry’s fingers carding through his hair.

“Deep breaths, that’s it. I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere. I love you, you’re alright.”

He listened to the sound of Harry’s voice as his breathing returned to normal, and it took a moment for him to catch up.

“You love me?”

Harry just grinned and stepped between Louis’ legs. “Without a doubt.”

Louis’ heart was pounding, and he laughed, wrapping his legs around Harry’s waist and his arms around his neck. He tried to control the amount of pure joy that he knew would come out in his voice, but there was no point. “I hear there’s a name for that, when you fall in love with your captor.”

“Stockholm Syndrome,” Harry hit back instantly, leaning forward to kiss Louis, but they were smiling too much for it to really work, “but I know that this isn’t that. It’s just _you_ , and I know it’s real, Louis.”

“I love you too,” Louis whispered back, and he tried to pinpoint how Harry made him so strong and so soft at the same time.

Harry nudged their noses together, his hands running down Louis’ back. “Feel like I’ve known you forever.”

Louis kissed him, quick but firm. “I’ll do anything to keep you safe.”

The roar of a crowd just outside the building made them break apart, and Louis cursed himself for getting distracted at such a crucial point; the perfect distraction, but a distraction nonetheless. He jumped down from the bench and realised they were in Lin’s workshop, the guns sitting neatly in boxes in the corner of the top floor.

Louis knew that Daisy was just outside, ‘in front of Fink’s clocktower’ as she’d said, so they jogged quickly down the stairs until they reached where the Buddha had been, and Harry frowned when they realised the shrine had changed to one of Comstock, draped in red, white, and blue.

“The Vox didn’t get their guns from Lin here. He worked for _Comstock_ ,” Harry said slowly, and he seemed frightened when he kept talking. “I – I don’t know if I brought us to a world where the Vox had weapons, or if I _created_ one. I always used to think that the universes I stepped into were my own thoughts and desires come true, almost like wish fulfilment, and – and I’ve always wanted them to win so badly, Louis.”

Louis didn’t have an answer, just tugged at him to keep going, but then were blueprints of Songbird downstairs with Fink’s name stamped on them, and Louis realised maybe their relationship had been stronger than he thought. Harry paused for a second, sadness evident in his eyes, but Louis just kept moving, and when they burst through the front doors in the courtyard, it was absolute chaos.

Dead bodies littered the ground as gunfire still echoed through the air, so much so that the Vox were stepping around them and over them as they moved. Daisy was standing on a stage with a knife to Fink’s neck, and the crowd was chanting for her to kill him. It was all so violent, intense and dangerous, and Louis felt his hand flare.

“This is them winning, Louis. This is my fault.”

And then Daisy was slitting Fink’s throat from ear to ear, blood spurting across the stage as the crowd went wild, and Louis flinched. It was a savage way to kill someone, and while Louis was sure Fink deserved it, it was still incredibly _violent_ , and Louis was stepping in front of Harry without a second thought.

“This isn’t your fault, Harry, these deaths aren’t your _fault_. You just made it so we could step into this world, and even if you did somehow create it, you are _not_ responsible for the choices people make while they are here.”

But Harry was shaking his head. “I still did it, Louis, I still _did_ this.”

It took Louis too long to realise that the crowd had quietened down, and by the time he realised he should’ve been more careful because his face was _everywhere_ , it was too late. He’d been too concentrated on Harry to even notice that Daisy had made her way down from the stage, and was standing directly in front of them, knife out as the crowd backed up to give her space.

“I saw you die, Louis. I saw you die with my own eyes.”

Louis swallowed heavily, because there was no way to explain it when he didn’t really understand it himself. “I’m just here for the airship.”

Daisy raised her eyebrows and shifted closer, and Louis moved to block Harry from her. “You mean Comstock’s? Why would you be here, when that’s at this big ol’ mansion in the sky? You know, the one you and Horan went to when you went to get the boy back?” When Louis didn’t answer, she pressed on, and the crowd started murmuring around her. “No. _My_ Louis Tomlinson died for the Vox Populi, so you’re either a ghost, or an imposter, and I don’t believe in ghosts.” Her eyes bore into Louis’, and his hand flared, but he was too late.

Daisy leapt at him, blade ready as Louis moved to cover Harry, to try to protect him from a certain death, but before she hit him, Louis saw Harry sidestep him, a still glitching pair of scissors in his hand, and just as Daisy was close enough, they bounced into colour and Harry drove them straight up into her throat.

Blood sprayed all over Harry, soaking his blouse, and when Daisy’s body hit the ground with a _thud_ , knife clattering uselessly to the ground, everything was deathly quiet until Louis couldn’t hold it in.

“Holy shit,” he blurted out, and Harry crumpled in front of him, staring at his hands. “Fuck, Haz,” Louis dropped to the ground, wiping the blood from Harry’s face with his sleeves pulled down over his hands. “Hey, it’s okay, it’s alright, it was the right thing to do.” The crowd was closing in quickly, and there was nowhere for them to go. “Harry, we need a portal, please darling, please.”

Without even looking up, Harry opened a tear and they rolled into it, landing in front of a storefront on the other side. Harry was stumbling up though, picking the lock on the door before Louis had even stood, and then locking it behind him. Louis stared at the door, was about to try and open it, but after what just happened, Harry probably needed the alone time. His hand hadn’t flared, so they were likely safe in the empty street for a moment.

It was never easy, the first time you killed someone, but it would’ve been especially difficult for someone like Harry, someone so sweet and kind. Louis sighed, squinting to see a gondola station at the end of the street leading up to a huge house. He was desperate for a cigarette.

Harry came back out sooner than Louis expected, and his jaw dropped. He’d changed into different clothes; tighter blue pants, a white and blue corset that showed his waist in a way that made Louis twitch, and a blue jacket to match. He’d left his choker on, but he’d taken his bun out and cut his hair to his shoulders.

Louis had to remind himself what they were doing there to stop from throwing him against the wall and kissing him until the city had burnt around them.

“It was all they had,” Harry shrugged, but then he was walking towards the gondola with purpose, and Louis had to jog to keep up. “That’s Comstock’s house, up there. He has an airship there, so I figured we should go and take it.”

Louis couldn’t help but laugh, and his soul seemed to settle slightly when Harry smiled and interlocked their fingers. They were high here, the house seemingly built at the top of the city, and they could see the city burning as far as they were able to.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Louis asked quietly, rubbing his thumb across Harry’s hand as they walked.

“Not really,” he sighed, and Louis waited. “It’s just that she didn’t seem all that different from Comstock in the end. Killing with no thought, drunk on power.”

“She was just different, Haz.” They stopped at the bottom of the station, hopping on the gondola and starting the journey up. “It’s just difficult to stop your blood from boiling once it starts.”

It was colder the further up they went, and Louis could already make out the giant gold statue at the top, and something that looked like billboards alongside the tracks. Harry was leaning against the railing with his arms tight around himself to lock the wind.

It was supposed to be simple; bring us the boy, wipe away the debt. Watching Harry now, beautiful and almost untouchable where he stood against the railing, it seemed clear to Louis what he should’ve known from the moment he saw him. It was never going to be simple.

“Do you think it’s possible to redeem everything that we’ve done?”

Louis moved, desperate to be closer, the siren in the background obvious that everything was about to fall apart again. “I don’t know if there’s any point.”

Harry kept his gaze on the burning city, eyes weary but bright. “Are you afraid of God, Louis?”

“No, but I’m afraid of you.” Louis took a deep breath. “I’m afraid of the way you make me feel, and that if anyone takes you away, whether it’s machine or a man or that fucking bird, I won’t be able to survive anymore.”

“I saw the blueprints of Songbird, in Lin’s workshop.” Harry wasn’t looking at him, but Louis couldn’t take his eyes off him. “I know it might be off, but it was my _friend,_ you know? My only companion for years. It used to sing for me, bring me art supplies and new books whenever I wanted them, although I don’t think it was supposed to,” Harry sighed fondly, and Louis couldn’t get rid of the image of a small Harry trying to hug the mechanical bird, or sitting on its head to play. “It changed when I got older, though. It became more like my captor, my guard. I can’t be too mad, though. It’s just Comstock’s pet, exactly like me.”

Louis inhaled sharply but stayed where he was. It was a fragile moment, and Harry needed to be the one to come to him. “You are no-one’s pet, Harry. We’ll be free of here soon, I promise.” He went to reassure him more, but he saw something out of the corner of his eye, two people sitting on the small island at the base of the first billboard. He had to rub his eyes to double check, but no. There they were.

“Oh my God, I’ve just realised who they are!” Harry moved forward to stand next to Louis, watching as Stubble and Cheekbones threw a baseball to each other. “The one on the right, with the lighter hair, he invented the technology that allows the buildings to float! It’s all quantum particles suspended in space time at a fixed height, but,” Harry continued even as Louis shot him an incredulous look, “my books said he disappeared years ago.”

They were also, of course, at the next billboard as Louis had thought they might be, but they could hear their conversation now. They were sitting in the grass at the base, happily ignoring the burning city around them. Stubble was speaking as they sat on a picnic blanket, passing Cheekbones a sandwich of some kind.

“I told you they’d come!”

Cheekbones took a quick bite. “No, you did not.”

“Well, I was going to.”

“But you didn’t”

“I was not going to”

Cheekbones paused, head tilted to the side. “That’s not right.”

“I was going to have told you that they’d already come?”

“No.”

“Ah.” Stubble picked up a strawberry from a basket and threw it in his mouth. “I don’t think the right syntax has been invented yet.”

“Oh, come now, it would have had to have been.”

“Had to have…had…been? Is that right?”

Cheekbones sighed, but it was fond. “Just leave all that to me, darling.”

There was one more billboard up ahead, and Louis had no doubt they’d find them there again, so he quickly asked Harry while they had the chance. “Who are they?”

Harry seemed to think about it for a moment. “Well, the inventor is Liam Payne, and I think the one on the left is Zayn Malik, although I’ve never seen him. He’s only mentioned in one of the books I had, but the nature of their relationship wasn’t well known.”

They’d already reached the next billboard, and Liam and Zayn seemed to be ballroom dancing around the base of it, kissing softly.

“Are you sure of that?” Louis teased, laughing when Harry slapped him lightly on the chest. “Why did they leave?”

Harry was watching them carefully. “I’m not sure, my books never said anything, just that they vanished. It was odd, although a relationship between two men, and one of colour, wouldn’t have been looked at too kindly at all up here. I would’ve left, too.”

Louis slid their fingers together, and for once, listened to Liam and Zayn happily as they spoke to each other.

“That’s odd.” Zayn slid his fingers into the short hair at the back of Liam’s neck.

Liam just spun him in a circle. “What is?”

“The fact that we – .”

“ – sometimes finish each other’s sentences?”

“Exactly.”

Harry rested his head on top of Louis’ as they passed. “I think they’re trying to help.”

“I think they’re a bit creepy,” Louis snorted, and he felt the huffed laughter Harry breathed into his hair. 

The gondola slowed to a stop, and Louis refused to let go of Harry’s hand as they moved through the township up here. It was deadly quiet, the only sounds coming from the Voxophones they kept finding, often sitting in the middle of the street or on a path leading to a house. Louis had a sneaking suspicion that Zayn was leaving them out on purpose, because they were almost all of him. Why he couldn’t just come and fucking _talk_ to them, Louis had no idea, because none of the messages added up, and Louis was slowly losing his mind.

_“ – and I managed to split the atom today! I think it’s the first step in the practical application for my alternate universe theory. I rushed to tell Li of course, and he said that as long as he’s with me in all of them, it doesn’t matter. What a sap.”_

_“ – haven’t seen Liam in two months now, and I can’t cope. I can’t go outside for fear of anyone seeing me, and I know that if Liam wasn’t lost in one of the universes, he’d be terribly angry on my behalf. He never wanted to pretend it was his idea, but, well, this city wasn’t ready for me, and the technology – .”_

_“Comstock doesn’t understand that what I’ve created, well. There’s a difference between prophecy, and probability. He has the money for us to create the window between the worlds. A window where we can be together again, my love. I miss you so much.”_

Liam wasn’t the one who’d created the technology; it was _Zayn_ , but the city was too racist, too homophobic to ever listen to him or take him seriously, so Liam had pretended so that Zayn could see his experiments come to life, had taken on the last name as a pseudonym because Zayn had already registered it with the patent offices.

It was a big sacrifice for _both_ of them, Louis thought. Both easily could’ve been killed if they’d been found out, and carrying that secret was bound to be stressful, affecting their relationship and their work, possibly causing resentment even though Zayn never sounded anything but madly in love with Liam. It was no wonder that the books Harry read had all lied about it.

It wouldn’t look good for them and their _beliefs_ if everyone found out that the city only existed because of a gay couple.

Louis had just been about to ask Harry to just summon another portal when they’d ducked into a shop to look for ammunition when Louis noticed a familiar looking statue; it was gold, had the face of Comstock and flags sticking out of its back, but Louis couldn’t remember where he knew it from. He’d just tapped Harry on the shoulder to ask when the statue started playing a tune, a familiar one that came with terrifying memories, and emitting steam. Louis had _just_ enough time to grab Harry and pull him to the floor, hiding behind the counter, when he heard Songbird’s shriek and the Earth shook when the force of him landing just outside.

Harry looked terrified, and he was clinging to Louis as the windows smashed and they both flinched. Louis didn’t want to risk sticking his head out to see what was happening, so they just waited. A bright yellow light lit up the back wall they were both staring at, some type of scanner that travelled the length of the room looking for them, but they were safely hidden, and Songbird just stamped its foot and left.

As soon as it was gone, Harry burst into tears, turning slightly frantic as he grabbed for Louis’ hand and pressed his cheek into it. Louis instantly brought both hands up, cupping his face and trying to soothe him as he twisted on the dirty floor.

“I thought it was dead,” Louis whispered, but Harry was shaking his head before he even finished the question.

“It’s a different universe, it’s alive here. It’s going to get me Louis, it’s gonna take me back.”

“Haz, I promise I won’t let it get you,” Louis said firmly, and he meant it. He wasn’t letting Harry go, not now, not when they were so close.

Harry slid his fingers down to Louis’ wrist, and gently moved his hand away from his cheek. “You can’t promise me that, Louis. You can’t! Just promise me that if it tries to take me back,” Harry moved Louis’ hand to his throat, and pressed his fingers in, and Louis felt confused, because he was pretty sure he _had_ just promised that, but then the cogs in his head clicked into place and he gasped just as Harry continued, “that you – you won’t let it.”

Louis let out a soft cry as he squeezed his eyes shut. His heart felt like it was about to jump out of his mouth, his palms sweaty, and he felt dizzy. What Harry was asking was _unforgivable_ , and there was no way he’d ever be able to do it. He had to make a different promise instead.

“Harry, I swear to you, I will _never_ let that happen.” Louis kissed his eyelids, salt on his lips now, and just held him close. “I promise.” Harry just turned his head and kissed his palm, and in that moment, it was enough.

It took a while before Louis felt it was safe enough for Harry to keep moving, and he stuck close to his side as they found their way to Comstock’s house. There was a tall memorial statue of Lady Comstock out the front, kneeling, surrounded by candles and flowers that Harry shot a glare at when they walked past it to get to the front door.

Louis had a horrible feeling, deep in his stomach, that he’d been here before, and when Harry went to open the gate, Louis knew what the problem was before Harry even told him.

“It needs a fingerprint,” Harry said, frustrated, and Louis had no idea where to go from here, but Harry just seemed to get more determined as his posture straightened, and he turned to face Louis head on. “It needs my mother’s fingerprint. I think it’s time to visit her grave, don’t you?”

Harry didn’t wait for an answer and had already opened a tear, ready to step through when Louis understood what he meant and pulled him back.

“You cannot seriously be thinking of going to _steal_ your dead mother’s _finger_ , Harry!” Louis hissed, and he honestly never thought he’d need to utter those words in his life. Harry was turning a lot of things upside down, apparently.

Harry looked genuinely confused as he cocked his head, fingers still twitching to keep the tear open. “Why not? She’s in an airtight crypt, I think. Her fingerprints should be preserved.”

Fucking hell. Louis tipped his head back and groaned into the air, counting to three. “No, Haz I mean that it’s your _mother_. We don’t have to do this,” he said softly, stepping forward to tuck a wayward curl behind Harry’s ear, pleased when he nuzzled into the touch.

“She abandoned me, Louis. We’re doing this.” Harry’s eyes were like fire, strong and sure, and Louis wasn’t sure how to convince him it was an awful idea.

“There is another way.”

Louis jumped, swearing as he almost flailed enough to hit Harry in the face. He spun around to face Zayn and Liam, his heart pounding as he clutched his chest, but he saw Harry wave out of the corner of his eye.

“For fuck’s _sake_ , can we _stop_ with the _sneaking?”_ Louis shot a glare at Zayn, but he just smiled back while Liam waved at Harry. Harry seemed inordinately happy about it. “What’s the other way?”

Zayn and Liam shared a small look, private and fond, and Louis just fucking _knew_ that they were about to start with their bullshit – .

“Why do you ask what?” Liam started, and Louis groaned long and loud into the air.

“Louis, don’t be rude,” Harry scolded with a soft tap to his butt, and Louis could not, for the life of him, figure out how they’d gotten here.

Zayn just kept talking like nothing was wrong. “When the delicious question is when?”

“The only difference between past and present.”

“Is semantics, really.”

Liam sighed. “Lives, live, will live.”

“Dies, died, will die.”

“If we could perceive time as it truly was.”

“What reason would grammar professors have for getting out of bed in the morning?”

“Or afternoon.”

“Whenever they fancy, really.”

Louis was rapidly losing patience, but they always seemed to get something of value out of them, so he resisted the urge to tap his foot, and waited.

“Like us all, Lady Comstock exists across time,” Liam explained.

Zayn looked pleased with himself. “She’s both alive, and dead.”

“She perceives being both.”

“And finds this…disagreeable.”

“Perception without comprehension.”

“is a dangerous combination.”

Harry interrupted just as Liam opened his mouth again, and Louis couldn’t stifle his snort at how put out Liam looked. “Look, there’s footsteps!”

And even though Louis had seen ridiculous things up here, he definitely hadn’t been expecting the bright blue footprints that were tracking down from the door of the house and leading down the street.

Zayn spoke up again, and Louis pushed down the urge to shove him into a nearby fountain.

“It appears she has unfinished business.” 

Louis held up his hand. “Okay, look. Don’t get me wrong. I think the two of you are a great couple, and you’ve been _very_ helpful, but can you please, just this once, cut the bullshit and tell us what we need to do?”

Zayn seemed to regard him for a moment before he sighed. “Why do you have to do this every time?” He turned to Liam with a whine, and Louis felt like it was a completely different person in front of him. “Leeyum, he does this every time.”

Liam just grinned. “I know, darling.”

“Anyway,” Zayn glared at Louis, but there was something playful about it. “I always have this speech ready to go, and you _always ruin it._ Every time.”

It startled a laugh out of Louis, and he found himself smirking at him. “Sorry mate.”

Zayn waved him off. “It’s fine. There are three tears close by that each contain a truth about how Comstock destroyed the world, but if one of you could alter time and space, you wouldn’t need to follow the footsteps at all.”

“Awfully convenient, that,” Liam piped up, and then they were both gone again, and Louis just wanted to get off these damn clouds.

It was clear they had to find tears; that much was obvious, but it took them slightly longer than it should’ve to figure out that Harry could just portal them there if he thought about it hard enough, a fact that delighted him to no end, and endeared Louis beyond a doubt. Harry could seemingly now portal them to places he’d never been before, and so Louis had no idea what he’d find when they arrived. The portal ended up dropping them right in front of a music store when they stepped through, and right in front of them was a tear, but it was _red_ , and Louis couldn’t ever remember seeing one that colour.

There was music coming from it, but nothing like he’d ever heard, and Harry shook his head too as they moved closer to listen to the lyrics.

_“Some boys take a beautiful girl and hide her away from the rest of the world.”_

Just as Harry tried to open it, it snapped closed, and they jumped back.

Louis spun where he stood, to see if there was another tear somewhere, one with more music that he didn’t know how to analyse, but then he saw _Malik Laboratory_ behind them, signs hanging from it to say that it was dangerous.

Zayn and Liam obviously knew they were going to end up here; it was _their lab_. They easily could’ve just told them where to go, or just brought everything with them.

They wandered in without knocking, certain that the men knew they were here anyway, wherever they were, and also because Louis refused to after the stunt they’d pulled. The front office was all white, modern and sleek with bookshelves along the whole left wall, but when they moved to the back, it became clear that they lived here, too. Louis let himself explore while Harry tracked down the tear that the Maliks had spoken about.

He found another Voxophone of Zayn’s that made him think twice about everything, just sitting in their kitchen.

_“Comstock sabotaged us, but we’re not DEAD, we’re just...scattered, but we’re together again now. The business with the boy isn’t resolved, but maybe something else can finish the job.”_

Louis pulled the telegram out of his pocket with a small smile, and ran his finger over the _‘Zayn’_ sitting at the bottom. They’d been helping him from the start, but it seemed like he’d been helping them just as much by being here.

He picked up a photo on their hall table, and it was like nothing he’d ever seen before. It was so vibrant in its colours, and _so clear_ that it looked like they were standing right in front of him. They looked different too, wearing suits in styles that Louis couldn’t remember seeing before, and their hair was cut strangely.

Louis flipped it over to read the scrawled writing there, and it really hit him how little he knew of anything that was happening.

_Our wedding._

_March 2014._

It certainly wasn’t something that was possible here, in this time, but.

Louis looked at the photo again.

Another time, perhaps.

He grinned a little when he realised then that Liam _wasn’t_ pretending to be a Malik; he was one.

“Louis! Louis, I found them!”

He put the photo back where he found it, a pang of want settling in his chest, and with one last look, jogged back down the stairs to see Harry standing in the middle of a huge machine, electricity crackling and blue lights sitting inside the Tesla coils surrounding it.

“All three of them are here,” Harry explained, and without asking, opened the first tear just enough that they could hear what was happening.

_“You whore!” Lady Comstock screamed, and there was the sound of something breaking._

_Zayn sighed. “Madame, I can assure you. I have no sexual interest in your husband. I have my own husband for that. I also, as a man, have no ability to bear children, and even if I was a woman, your husband is quite sterile.”_

_“You’re a LIAR. Come and get your bastard son, I want him OUT of my HOUSE.”_

_A door slammed, and then Zayn was talking again, to himself, it seemed._

_“Lady Comstock seems to believe that we stole the child, but I told her the truth, that the boy is a product of our machines. I think she found that less believable.”_

The tear snapped shut.

“He – he was _sterile._ ” Harry’s voice seemed stable, but it shook the more he went on. “They weren’t my parents at all.” He took a deep breath, and clearly tried to collect himself. Louis saw when he failed though, and Harry’s bottom lip quivered. “They just decided to - to imprison me.” He took one more deep breath, and when Louis locked eyes with him, he could see they were focused, and Harry’s voice was strong when he spoke again. “Lady Comstock deserves whatever she got.”

Louis almost flinched from the amount of venom in Harry’s voice when the last sentence was spat out, and he didn’t dare bring up the other part that hadn’t made sense. Harry didn’t seem to _have_ biological parents; he’d just been born from Zayn’s machines one day. Although the conception didn’t make sense, the fact that Harry had the ability to do all the things he had done did.

He’d been literally _born into it._

Louis placed a comforting hand on Harry’s shoulder, his thumb rubbing smooth circles, and watched as Harry opened the next tear. This time Louis only recognised one of the men.

_“So you want me to sabotage all of their patents?”_

_“Yes, all of them.”_

_“Why does he want the two of them dead?”_

_A heavy sigh. “Look, Fink. Lots of reasons, okay? They live in sin every single day, but the main reason is the same as to why Lady Comstock lies dead. The child.”_

_“And why does he want me to do it?”_

_“Because you can make it look like an accident.”_

_Fink seemed to be tossing up the possibilities in his head. “I still don’t understand where the child even came from.”_

_“All you need to know is that the Prophet required an heir, and Lady Comstock couldn’t produce one. He needed to get one from somewhere, and she threatened to tell everyone where the kid came from. She couldn’t live.”_

The tear snapped shut, and Louis was already pulling Harry into him before he burst into tears. He rocked him back and forth, whispering sweet nothings in his ear until his breathing returned to normal and Louis’ shirt was soaked. Harry seemed to take a moment to snap himself out of it, and even though Louis knew that right now wasn’t the time to get sidetracked by emotions, he just wanted Harry to feel loved and listened to.

“I’m so sorry, love, I’m right here.”

Harry sniffed, burying his face into Louis’ neck. “I don’t belong _anywhere,_ Louis.”

“You belong with me, Harry.”

They stood huddled together as Harry opened the third and final tear, and Louis braced himself for whatever was coming. He could hear a storm outside, rain lashing the windows and thunder rattling the roof, but the storm inside threatened to be worse.

_“I – what is this? You two are dead! I took your funeral photo!”_

_Zayn sounded bored. “Yes, and did a shocking job, I might add.”_

_“One can’t expect a photo of one’s corpse to come across as anything other than lifeless, dear,” Liam reminded him, and Zayn’s eye roll was almost audible when he spoke._

_“Oh well I suppose so.”_

_The stranger spoke again. “What do you want from me?”_

_“Well, we’d very much like it if you could please tell people that Fink killed us.”_

_“We’d love it, in fact,” Liam added._

_“I – why would Fink want to hurt you? No one will believe me!”_

_“Why on Earth not?” Zayn sounded offended._

_“Because you’ve been dead for seven days!”_

The tear snapped shut, and Louis felt like he could still breathe after that one, which seemed a positive, considering.

“He – he killed the Maliks and his wife, and anyone else who knew the truth. I’m not even his _son_ , Louis.” Harry tried to curl in on himself, but Louis just moved in closer, so they were touching from their feet to their chests.

“You’re more than that, Harry,” Louis murmured into his chest, stroking up his back slowly. “You’re everything. We’re getting out of here, I promise.”

Harry didn’t say anything to that, just pressed a kiss to the top of Louis’ head and made another tear to portal them back to the front of the Comstock’s house. When they arrived, they hadn’t expected to see a soft wisp of light blue, hovering just in front of Lady’s Comstock’s memorial. Louis didn’t believe in ghosts, but right now, he was exceptionally glad that Harry seemed to know what to do.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered to the wisp, his voice cracking. Louis almost rushed over, but he held himself back; this was something Harry had to do on his own. “I accidentally brought you back in a different universe, and - I’m not your husband’s bastard, or his child at all, I’m his victim! Just like you! And we need to forgive each other.” Harry looked small here, curled in on himself as if he was the one who’d done something wrong when Louis knew he was almost the only person up here to do anything right. “I know he killed you because you wouldn’t keep his secret about me.”

The spirit seemed to speak then, and Louis really needed to stop dismissing everything he read as ghost stories.

“How am I alive here?”

Harry seemed to hesitate. “You’re not, in this world. Maybe this is you in a world where you never met him.” 

“Or where I saved him?”

“I don’t know if that’s possible.”

Louis watched as the light got brighter at that, seemed to glow more until it sank back into the statue and beams of light shot out of the memorial, causing the door to the house to burst open. Harry still stared, but Louis grabbed him and pulled him into the house, eager to get to Comstock’s airship.

And maybe kill the bastard.

By the time they got to the gondola station, Louis was ready to jump out of his skin. They were so close now; he could see Harry wandering the streets of Paris, talking to everyone and staring at every piece of art. They’d eat pastries every morning, and make love every night, and he’d be able to live his life knowing that Harry was his, and he was Harry’s. He could see the gondola, see it crawling down, and he turned to grin at Harry, but then Harry suddenly started to scream.

Louis’ hand flared with fire.

By the time he caught on, he was too late, and Songbird was suddenly there, loud and unforgiving and pinning Louis to the wood of the platform. It was too strong, and Louis was no match for it. He met Harry’s horrified eyes, and yelled the only thing he could think of.

“Harry, run!”

But then Songbird threw him through a skylight, and everything went black.

_He woke up, drooling on his desk again, and sat up to wipe his mouth._

_“Bring us the boy and wipe away the debt.”_

_Louis’ head shot up. The voices were clear now, it was just that they’d been entangled every time. He stood up and stalked over to Liam and Zayn, trying to push them out of the way, but they wouldn’t move. He turned around to find Harry leaning against his desk._

_“Bring us the boy and wipe away the debt.”_

_“Bring us the boy and wipe away the debt.”_

_“Bring us the boy and wipe away the debt.”_

_“Bring us the boy and wipe away the debt.”_

Louis woke with a start as Songbird came crashing through the skylight to follow him, eyes bright red as it pinned Louis again. Louis could hear Harry as he tried to struggle, but Songbird pulled its talon back to kill Louis regardless.

“Wait! No, don’t hurt him, I’m begging you! I love him, _please_!”

Louis closed his eyes, and waited for death.

“I’m sorry!”

Louis’ eyes flew back open as Songbird stopped, its talon only inches from Louis’ face.

“I’m sorry, I never should’ve left, okay?” _No, Harry no._ Louis couldn’t move, but he watched as Harry hugged himself around Songbird’s claw. “I shouldn’t have left, take me back, okay?”

 _No._ Louis started squirming, but he wasn’t strong enough, too drowsy from losing consciousness.

“Take – take me home, okay? Please?” Harry was crying now as Songbird’s eyes turned green, and it nuzzled down against the top of Harry’s head. Harry looked straight at Louis. “I’m sorry.”

Songbird let Louis go, but it was already picking Harry up to fly away. Louis jumped up, desperate to grab hold of Harry in any way he could, but all he got was a graze of his fingertips and a mouthed _‘I love you’_ before he was gone, Songbird carrying him somewhere Louis didn’t know and had no idea how to get to.

The last thing he remembered seeing, before everything went black again, were two figures, and without Harry, he didn’t care enough to fight.

When he woke, he was in a bedroom that he recognised, even though he’d only been there once. Zayn was sitting in the chair to his right reading a book, and Liam was sewing what looked like a rainbow coloured quilt. They both looked up when he groaned, and while Liam looked mildly concerned, Zayn leapt up and started pacing.

“This has happened before, Li. We’ve gotten this far before.”

Liam sighed, and went back to his quilt. “I know, darling. I’ve been there every other time.”

Louis struggled to sit up, but as soon as his head stopped spinning, he slid out of the bed and started off going down the stairs. Neither of them physically tried to stop him, but even if they had, there was absolutely no way Louis was staying _anywhere._ He was going to save Harry, wherever he was, and get the fuck away from here.

Zayn called out from behind him. “Please Louis, the only way you can save Harry is by staying here. We’ve tried.”

Louis slammed the door shut, and slowly turned to face him. They were both in the centre of the room, standing still, and as Louis watched, Zayn leaned over to press a button on a control panel, and a tear opened up behind him. 

“What do you mean, you’ve tried?” He tried to keep his voice even, but he was sick of feeling like a fucking experiment, like this was some kind of sick game that only he didn’t know the rules of.

“We’ve tried,” Liam repeated, and then he was pulling out a chalkboard that Louis recognised from when they asked him to flip a coin. “We’ve tried to stop Comstock 123 times now. Well, this Comstock anyway.”

Louis shook his head, but it didn’t get rid of the ringing in his ears. “Are you trying to tell me that I’ve done this 123 times?” When Zayn nodded, Louis let out a harsh laugh as everything started to fall into place. “You’ve been helping me the entire time, because you already knew what I was going to do. That’s why you kept a tally of what the coin landed on, so you knew if the rest of your plan could be the same.”

“Honestly, what are the chances of you getting heads _every_ time though?” Zayn protested, and Louis couldn’t help but chuckle.

“So, what, you gave me that shield because you knew I’d need it? And the person in the lighthouse, did you kill them?”

Liam seemed to think for a moment before he moved to a desk to grab what looked like a pan flute. He played four simple notes in a tune Louis recognised, and then carefully placed it back down. “Yes. He was working for Comstock, and he killed you in 43 other tries. He had to go. We helped you a total of 1,965 times this try. I doubt you saw them all.”

Louis felt faint. “Where’s Harry now? What usually happens now?” He slammed his fist into the wall beside him, pleased when it cracked slightly. “Where the fuck is he? I swear to God, if he’s _hurt_ , I will end you.”

Zayn and Liam glanced at each other, and then Zayn was turning to face Louis head on. “This is probably the worst part of the whole thing, but you really need to understand his tower a little bit better. Also, relax a touch please. Do you remember the coils in the centre of the tower, and the electricity running everywhere?” Louis nodded, and Zayn pressed on. “Harry feels stronger outside of that tower for two reasons, Louis. One is because he’s with you, and we’ll get to that, but the other is because Fink designed the tower, and its main purpose is to siphon Harry’s energy and power to make vigors and salts. He hasn’t used his full strength, _ever_ , because he was too young when it first started happening.”

“So where is he now?”

Liam at least looked apologetic. “He’s not in the tower anymore, but it still affects him. It’s been draining him, but not enough for Comstock to make money off of him, so he’s currently in Comstock’s mansion, and I need you to stay _in the house_ because the last eight times you’ve run off and ruined everything, but,” Liam grimaced, “he was attached to a machine that was siphoning it directly from his body.”

He probably could’ve handled it better, there was no denying it, but the thought of anyone touching Harry, of _hurting_ him or _draining_ him of anything filled him with fury _so quickly_ that he accidentally pushed all of his vigors down, and set Liam and Zayn’s lounge room on fire. It must’ve been a common enough occurrence though, because Zayn was instantly putting it out with a hose he’d pulled from somewhere.

“Where. Is he. Now?” Louis spat out through gritted teeth, but he heard a familiar shriek, and a large _thud_ coming from outside, and Louis recognised the tune that Liam had played earlier.

Songbird was outside.

Louis knew he was about to potentially ruin everything, but he was sprinting towards the door before he even realised, as if his body had decided on its own to get to Harry as quickly as possible. He didn’t even care that Songbird was there. He didn’t care that Liam and Zayn were watching, or that anyone could come by at any moment, because the second that he reached Harry, he picked him up around the waist and spun him, holding him as tight as possible until he was sure he might be hurting him. He lowered him to the ground, but before he could move, Harry was threading his fingers through Louis’ hair and kissing him, desperate and searching and so full of love that Louis only realised he was crying when he tasted salt.

Harry was here, and he was safe, and even though Louis could see cuts and bruises on his face, he was still _alive_ and _here_ , and Louis never thought anything could feel like this.

They clung to each other as Zayn and Liam waited, and even as Songbird, its eyes green and calm, tried to nuzzle its head in to join, and Louis only pulled back enough to look Harry in the eyes.

“I love you.”

Harry’s grin was almost blinding, even though all the dirt and grime. “I love you, too. Comstock’s dead. Songbird came to get me, broke in through the roof of his house and everything, and when he was distracted, I smashed him over the back of the head with a piece of rubble.”

Louis barked out a laugh at the easy way he said it, and it showed on Harry’s face how happy he was for the bastard to be dead, a stark contrast to how he’d seemed so shattered about murdering Daisy. It seemed a humbling death for someone who’d acted so close to God, who sat upon thrones of gold and tried to rule with an iron fist. Louis was glad that Harry had been the one to do it in the end, because it had been Harry that had suffered the most. 

“I’m so proud of you, love.” Louis kissed him again, sweet and soft. “Incredibly proud.”

The tender moment between them was broken when Liam came over, pan flute back in his hand. “There’s only one way to truly right everything, Harry.” He handed the flute to Harry, and Louis watched them, mood tinged with confusion. “We’ve tried to train Songbird to rescue you every time before now, and to do what we need next, but it’s never worked before.”

Louis looked to Zayn and wrapped his arm around Harry’s waist. “How did you know it would work this time?”

Zayn just smirked. “You picked the bird.” He pointed at Harry as Harry’s hand flew up to the choker, clutching the pin tightly.

“I’ve chosen the cage every other time?”

“Every time, and so whenever we tried to get Songbird to rescue Harry, he just refused. We need him to destroy the centre of the tower now, and release all of Harry’s strength back to him, because you’ll need it where you’re going. Harry, when you’re ready, just play C, A, G, E.”

Cage. The tower had been Harry’s cage for years, and it seemed fitting that Songbird, who had kept him in it, would be the one to destroy it, to explode its core and set Harry free. Louis clutched Harry’s hand, refusing to tear up when Harry said a final goodbye to Songbird, hugging its beak and kissing its eyelid. It was strange to see the bird so gentle and kind when it’d been so harsh and unforgiving, but everything always tended to be controlled by the dominant forces around them. With Comstock gone, and Liam and Zayn’s training, maybe this was what Songbird had always been. 

The second Harry finished the last note, Songbird took flight, majestic and terrifying, and all they could do was wait now, so they headed back inside to sit with Liam and Zayn and wait for Songbird to hit its mark.

It was Harry who broke the silence, sitting inbetween Louis’ legs with his back to his chest. “Why did you give me to the Comstocks? Why were you so set on us doing this?”

It certainly wasn’t the light and breezy conversation that Louis had been expecting, but he wanted to know, so he settled back into the couch to listen.

“Comstock once came here completely unannounced, and walked in to see us together. He blackmailed us for years, knowing what would happen to us if anyone found out about our relationship. So,” Zayn sighed, and laced his fingers with Liam’s, “we had to do what he asked. I never meant to hurt you, or anyone, with this.”

Harry smiled softly. “I know.”

“The thing is that Liam and I, we can travel through all areas of space and time, so it’s easy for us to be more active in a universe that’s more accepting. We’re technically everywhere at once, but we can stay dormant in the ones we want to,” Zayn explained, and Louis just tried to keep up. “We just didn’t know that before we agreed to hand you over.”

Liam shifted then and pressed a kiss to Zayn’s temple. “We’ve been playing around with it a bit, and we learned the oddest thing.” Liam was grinning now, and Zayn’s face was slowly shifting too. “Harry, when you fully get your powers back, you have a choice to make. The both of you can stay here, or you can go to any universe you like. It’ll use everything you have though, so you can’t come back. You have to be sure, and you won’t be able to choose where you go.”

Louis frowned. “How will we know it’s better than here, there?”

“Because in all the universes we’ve ever been to, the one constant is the two of you,” Liam said softly. “In every universe, wherever it is, there’s a Louis and a Harry.”

“Soulmates,” Harry whispered, and Louis suddenly _understood_ why he felt such a pull, why he always knew that he loved Harry, even though it didn’t make sense.

“Soulmates,” Zayn nodded, and Louis felt like crying. “There’s also a Comstock though, or a version of him, and there’s always a lighthouse at some point. In every other universe though, every other Harry and Louis, they _win._ This is the only one where you don’t, and it’s why we had to work so hard so you would.”

“Because it’s the only one we don’t,” Louis repeated slowly, “but, we just did, yeah?”

Zayn laughed, and there was a rumble in the distance. “Yeah. That’s why you can choose, now. You won’t remember any of this, you’ll just live different lives.”

There wasn’t even a beat of silence. “I want to go,” Harry announced, and Louis felt relief flood his system.

He couldn’t be here any longer, reminded of everything that had happened, everything he’d done. He grinned at Harry, his heart fluttering when Harry grinned back, and then Harry was starting to glow a light blue.

Songbird had destroyed the tower.

“Send us, please,” Louis said quietly, watching Harry as he grew brighter and brighter. “Does this mean we’ll forget you?”

But Zayn just smirked. “Oh I think you’ll find that we manage to pop up usually, anyway. The only thing I can try and tell you is that even if it seems hopeless, even if you feel like you’ll never get on top, you will. As long as you find each other, you will. The win is coming, I promise.”

Louis had to shield his eyes as Harry lit up even brighter still, and suddenly Zayn was yelling, Liam was moving, and then everything went black. 

_Louis blinked, shaking his head quickly as his head spun for just a second. He could see Harry across the stage trying not to check on him and failing as he spoke to the crowd, and the screams of all the people there to see them slowly faded back in._

_“You alright, babe?” There was a cool hand at the back of his neck, and he hummed, and even though it couldn’t be Harry, at least here onstage, he was glad it was Zayn. “I got you some water, here.”_

_They sat down on the steps on the stage as Liam wandered the length of it, waving to everyone while Zayn tried not to look too desperately in love. Louis could relate._

_He felt calmer today somehow, more free and ready for whatever Simon was going to throw at them tomorrow. Louis let his eyes travel over Harry as he stood for the next song, his eyes lingering on the anchor tattooed on his wrist, the place under his shirt where he knew the cage tattoo sat. He wasn’t sure what it was about this moment right now, but he suddenly felt invincible, and so desperately in love._

_“So, make sure you sing along if you know this one! It’s Fireproof!”_

_And Louis had never meant those lyrics more._

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, thank you so so much for reading! I'm incredibly grateful, and I hope you enjoyed it.  
> You can visit me on [Tumblr](https://lightwoodsmagic.tumblr.com/), and I would love it if you reblogged the [fic post](https://lightwoodsmagic.tumblr.com/post/614480280839946240/are-you-afraid-of-god-by-lightswoodmagic-m-54k)!  
> Nice comments and kudos make me happy :)  
> Thank you all so much!  
> xx


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